On His Own
by cousin D
Summary: Gentle Alfred Cooper, who had been deeply wounded by a hard life, found himself in a village in Transylvania where he met the intimidating Count Von Krolock and his friendly son, Herbert. But Alfred carried with him a powerful artifact that Count Von Krolock hated so passionately that he would go to great lengths to destroy it even if it meant traveling half-way around the world.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Jump!**

In Bucharest, Alfred Cooper raced after Professor Abronsius, dodging though the thick crowds of people on the platform of the train station. Their train was already puffing out great billows of black smoke from the smokestack as it readied for departure. Alfred felt incredibly out of place as he slipped between the passengers who'd disembarked or were boarding the train. Those folks were far above his class – they all dripped with the trappings of obvious wealth. Not one of those fine people even glanced at Alfred except for a man who gave him a glare when Alfred accidently brushed against him.

"Hurry, now!" Professor Abronsius snapped over his shoulder. "If we miss that train because of your dawdling… I'll put you back where I found you – right on the streets of Whitechapel!"

Alfred shuddered and quickly hurried his pace. "Yes, professor." He didn't want to end up going back there… he's sooner die than go back to Whitechapel.

Professor Abronsius looked over his shoulder several times as they hurried. He wasn't looking at Alfred, but whatever he was expecting to see, he didn't tell Alfred. It was puzzling. Alfred had been watching Professor Abronsius look over his shoulder ever since they'd left the hotel in a mad dash to get away from Bucharest. Alfred didn't even know what the urgency was – he quite liked Bucharest. It was pretty and the people were nice.

They just made it onto the train before a long, loud hiss of steam and the shrill call of the whistle, announced that the train was ready to leave. After showing their tickets to the conductor, Alfred and Professor Abronsius found their empty compartment and made themselves as comfortable as possible. It was to be a long journey back to Germany, but this train was fast and comfortable. The trip to Bucharest had been long, but uneventful and Alfred hoped the trip back would be the same.

Professor Abronsius stood in the compartment for a moment, oblivious to be the movement of the train, and just held his bag while he possessively stroked it. He looked out of the window in their compartment, then opened the door and peered out into the hall that ran down the length of their car. Whatever he was looking for, he didn't tell Alfred and Alfred didn't ask. He knew better. Professor Abronsius kept his own counsel.

After a time, the professor's wild energy settled and he sat, never once letting go of his leather bag. It was his special bag, his professional bag. That was the bag that held his vampire hunting equipment: a wooden stake, a mallet, and a cross. Alfred carried the professor's more mundane supplies. He carried the bag with money, travel papers, spare clothes, and a flask of brandy.

The trip started out very quietly. Professor Abronsius rarely spoke to Alfred and demanded Alfred's silence when Alfred tried to speak. Alfred didn't mind. Even after such a long time away from the squalor of home, he still appreciated being away from it so the hours of admiring the world outside the train was no hardship. The vast forests of Transylvania with clear skies and the occasional quaint little village were a real pleasure to see. The whole place was idyllic. He spent nearly a full day staring happily out the window.

At one point, Professor Abronsius absently handed Alfred a few coins and gave him instructions to purchase them some food from the dining car.

Pleased with his task, as he'd been hungry for several hours at that point, Alfred went off with thoughts of sandwiches and apples swimming around in his head. He'd just gone into the dining car when a man caught his eye and walked slowly, almost menacingly, towards him.

"Boy! Where is Abronsius?!"

Alfred took his cap off and gave a quick nod of his head at the rough, aggressive tone though he was very surprised to see the man so far from Germany. "He's in our compartment, Doctor Alibori." As Alfred did with most people, Alfred made sure to keep at arm's reach from Doctor Alibori. "May I show you…" He was cut off abruptly when Doctor Alibori shoved passed him and stormed down the corridor towards where Alfred had left Professor Abronsius.

Alfred was torn. He had a task and Professor Abronsius didn't like it when Alfred failed to complete a task, but he felt quite sure that there was about to be a confrontation of the Not-Terribly-Professional type back at their compartment. Alfred rushed to buy two sandwiches, and then all but ran back to their compartment. While Alfred had no idea what kind of fight two aging scholars might have, he had been born and bred in the dark streets of Whitechapel. He had seen men killed in knife fights before his fifth birthday and he'd seen two women trying to strangle one another in the middle of the street in broad daylight over some petty argument. He had no doubt that the two professors had enough vinegar in them to start a real brawl.

He hadn't been wrong.

"Thief! You immoral slime!"

"Odious rat!" Professor Abronsius shouted back.

Alfred heard the yelling before he reached their compartment. It made him slow his step. People from other compartments were looking out at the spectacle being created. Alfred felt his heart speed up. He hated fighting!

Professor Abronsius bolted out of their compartment, both bags in hand, and ran down the aisle at Alfred. "Run!" He threw one bag to Alfred before Alfred, shocked at the sudden turn of events, caught the bag and ran.

A glance over his shoulder showed Alfred that it was Doctor Alibori who was chasing them. He looked furious and though he wasn't a young man, he, like Professor Abronsius was fit and strong. They nearly collided with a porter and Alfred called out as they ran on, "Sorry!"

"Keeping moving!" Professor Abronsius shouted. He knocked over a tall floor lamp in the hopes of slowing Doctor Alibori's pursuit.

They kept going until Professor Abronsius called out, "Wait! Here!" Alfred turned and looked back to where Professor Abronsius stood at one of the car's doors. He grabbed Alfred by the arm and pulled him to the open door.

"Jump!"

Alfred looked out the train door at the world rushing by. Everything was white from snow and the trees seemed like a moving wall in front of him. He started to shake his head. He couldn't do it. "We'll be killed!"

"I said, jump!" There was a shove on his back and Alfred lost his balance. He fell and, for the briefest of moments, he felt like he was flying. Then he hit the ground so hard that it knocked the breath out of him. He rolled in the snow and only came to a stop when it hit a tree. It hurt, but at least he didn't hit his head. Alfred got to his feet as quickly as he could, just in time to watch the tail end of the train rush by and vanish out of sight.

He was in the middle of a deep forest, trees all around. It would have been very pretty if he wasn't suddenly very aware of what a precarious position he was in. The two leather bags had ended up not far from Alfred and he retrieved them before he started to search for Professor Abronsius. He knew Professor Abronsius had jumped from the train, too, because he wouldn't have abandoned his bags.

A blizzard set in, quickly.

"Hey! Professor, where are you?" Alfred shouted as loudly as he could, but the storm raged so terribly that he could hardly hear his own voice. Snow fell heavily and the wind howled. Alfred was freezing. Even his teeth were cold. He was shivering so hard, he could hardly stand. The long trek was miserable. The wind howled and the snow fell at an alarming rate. Alfred's nose and ears were freezing. His toes were so cold that they hurt. "Professor!" Alfred called out over the wind. "I can't see you!"

There was no answer.

The whole world was white. The sky and the ground were all one-in-the-same. If he hadn't had the ground under his feet, he wouldn't have known which way was up and which way was down.

When he finally found Professor Abronsius, still and silent as he lay on the ground, Alfred let out a shocked cry even before he ran to Professor Abronsius' side. The man was cold as death. His whole body was stiff and even when Alfred rolled him onto his back, he didn't wake up. Alfred shook him and rubbed his face, but Professor Abronsius didn't wake up. With all his strength, Alfred managed to heave Professor Abronsius up onto his back and stood, with a struggle. So, with the professor on his back and the bags in his hands, Alfred began walking and prayed that he would find some shelter.

After a short time, he felt like he would collapse. His muscles were tired. He'd stopped shivering and his head felt fuzzy. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to close his eyes for just a few minutes.

Then, in the distance, there was a light.

He followed that light. It felt like it took him hours to get to that light as it burned in the darkness of the storm. Alfred felt like he was dying. He was cold right to his bones. Professor Abronsius was unbelievably heavy and growing heavier by the moment. Alfred's hands, holding the handles of the professor's bags, hurt so very badly. He couldn't feel his toes or his nose and his ears hurt so badly from the cold that he wished he couldn't feel them.

The light grew brighter as Alfred moved closer to it. He very slowly became aware that he was in a village. It was a dim thought, dull and unimportant that lurked in the back of his mind. He kept his eyes fixed on the bright light and the closer he got to it, the more clearly he could see that it was a window in a large building. In the window, though the raging storm that had nearly become a white-out, he saw figures moving briskly around inside. People.

Alfred almost cried.

People. Light meant warmth. There would be a fire.

With a burst of energy that came from the thoughts of being warm and safe, Alfred tried as hard as he could to walk more quickly. The gusting wind pushed against him, as if it were alive and trying to keep him away from the building. Alfred gritted his teeth and pushed on.

By the time Alfred reached the front door, he felt like he was dying. He hurt and his head felt fuzzy and he was starting to lose feeling in his hands; he could hardly hold the bags. And somehow, though he was aware of what was happening to him, he didn't have quite enough energy to be alarmed by any of it. All he wanted was to get to the light and warmth.

He reached the door. It was a large door with a big iron handle and iron hinges. Alfred rapped on the door and called for help, but his voice was weak and the wind roared; he was sure no one inside would hear him. He tried, again, but still there was no answer. Finally, exhausted, Alfred just pushed against the door. The relief he felt when it swung open was unspeakable.

Alfred staggered a few feet into the building before his strength gave out entirely. He fell to his knees and lost his grip on the bags before he lost his grip on Professor Abronsius and he fell. The whole world went dark. He could hear voices, but they were muffled and strangely distant. He felt strong hands under his arms lift him. Something pressed against his lips just before a burning liquid ran down his throat and Alfred coughed. His eyes sprang open and he found himself staring at a middle-aged woman with dark hair and a concerned smile who held a bottle of vodka – obviously what she'd used to revive him.

The room was packed with people. They were all staring and Alfred self-consciously slouched down on the chair he was sitting on. He didn't like being the center of attention. He looked around at all the people and couldn't find any words. He was still freezing, but there was a blazing fire on the heath of the room's large fireplace and that helped. The dark-haired woman kindly put a blanket over Alfred's shoulder. Slowly, feeling began to creep back into his fingers, toes, ears, and his nose.

"You're safe, now." The woman told Alfred. "What's your name?"

"Alfred, ma'am. Please, there was a man with me. I thought I brought him in here."

A man with a large potbelly spoke up. "You did, but he didn't make it."

"Didn't… what?"

The woman put a hand on Alfred's shoulder. The sudden touch made Alfred flinch, but turned to look at her and tried to keep calm. "I'm Rebecca. Rebecca Chagal. How are you feeling?"

"Cold. Sick. Please, where is Professor Abronsius?"

Madam Chagal looked pityingly at Alfred and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the man said,

"He's dead. What do you think I meant? He was dead before you walked in the door, froze as stiff as an icicle. Look there," he pointed to the middle of the room where a table sat and, on top of it, a white covered body. "We laid him out neatly enough." The man smiled at Alfred, showing off yellowed, crooked teeth. "I am Mister Chagal, innkeeper of this fine establishment." He clasped his hands together in front of his chest in an ingratiating manner. "Will you be renting room tonight?"

Stunned, Alfred looked away from Mister Chagal to where Professor Abronsius, apparently, lay under a shroud. It probably wasn't Professor Abronsius. He was far too tough to die. It had to be some kind of wild mistake.

"Where are the bags?" Alfred asked. "I had two bags."

"Right here," Madam Chagal picked them up from where they'd been sitting on the floor next to Alfred's chair and handed them to him.

Grateful to have them, Alfred held both bags, hugging them to his chest. The familiar smell of the leather was a comfort. "Are… are you sure he's dead?"

"Very." Mister Chagal gave a decisive nod of his head. "He's been dead for a good long time. What were you two fools doing out in that storm?"

Alfred didn't even register the mild insult. He'd been called far worse. "We had to get off the train."

Madam Chagal let out a horrified gasp and put a hand to her mouth. "You came from the train tracks? That's a good half-mile away! Oh, you poor thing. You need to get out of those wet clothes and…"

"Now," Mister Chagal interrupted. "Let's deal with important matters, first. That man," He made a negligent gesture of one hand to where Professor Abronsius lay. "Was he important to you?"

"I was his servant. He was very important." So important that Alfred had no idea what he would do now that he no longer had his employer. He didn't even know how to get back to England… not that he really wanted to.

Mister Chagal, with a pleased smile, said, "That's very good. Now, you'll have to give me your money."

"What?"

"Well," Mister Chagal said, thoughtfully. "You do want him to have a decent burial, don't you?"

"Yes, of course," Alfred answered.

"Of course you do, but that will take money. Do you have any?"

Madam Chagal shot her husband a shocked look and looked as if she might say something, but Alfred wasn't really paying attention. He still felt unfocused and shaky. He couldn't stop shivering, even with the fire and the blanket. Despite how poorly he felt, he did understand that Professor Abronsius needed a funeral and that would cost money. Besides, it wasn't as if it was Alfred's money, anyway.

"I don't, but Professor Abronsius had some." Alfred opened one of the bags and rifled through it until he found the pouch of coins. He started to open the bag to count out the money, but the bag was snatched out of his hand by Mister Chagal.

"This feels about right." Mister Chagal grinned down at Alfred. "If more is needed, may I assume that you're willing to work off the debt?"

Debt? Alfred blinked dumbly up at Mister Chagal, even as Madam Chagal turned red and snapped something at her husband in a language Alfred didn't understand. Mister Chagal waved off whatever she said to him, but kept looking at Alfred, expectedly.

Confused and not really knowing what else to do, Alfred nodded, slowly. "I… I suppose so. Does a funeral cost so much?" He'd thought Professor Abronsius had quite a bit of money in that bag.

"Don't worry about that." Mister Chagal tucked the small purse of money away in his shirt with a very satisfied smile. "I'll tell you if you have a debt to work off. You're a bit skinny, but I'll find work for you to do. Now, do you have any more money or is this all of it?"

Alfred really had no idea. He wasn't normally allowed to handle money. But he dug through the bag, again. "No," he said, when he was certain. "That was all. There isn't any more."

Mister Chagal's face fell. "Shame. Ah, well. A pity. That means you can't afford to rent a room from us tonight, unless you'll work off that debt, too."

At that, Madam Chagal let out a squawk. "You can't be serious!"

"Be silent, woman. He has no money to pay for a room." Again, Mister Chagal waved away her complaints. "I'm not heartless. If he doesn't want to work, he can sleep in the stables." Then he turned and went up stairs without a second glance at the body of Professor Abronsius laying on the table or Alfred looking completely lost.

Alfred looked up at Madam Chagal and said, "I can work…"

"Don't you listen to him!" Madam Chagal declared. "I won't hear of you sleeping outside on a night like this and this is no night for you to be working. I can't give you a room or he'll throw you out, but you will stay inside tonight. However," Madam Chagal put a motherly hand, red and chapped from a hard day's work, on his arm. "I think you might have a hard time sleeping out here with him," she gestured discretely to Professor Abronsius' body. She took Alfred to the kitchen where a huge fireplace with a dying fire gave light to the room. Madam Chagal added a few logs to the fire and stirred up the coals until the fire danced back to life. "You make yourself as comfortable as you can here." She brought him blankets and dry socks. "No one comes down here at night, so no one will bother you if you take off those wet clothes and let the fire dry them." She brought him a cup of water and bread with butter and said, "I know it's been a rough day for you, but you're alive and sleep will make the world seem brighter in the morning."

"Thank you, ma'am."

She left him and Alfred was alone in the kitchen. There were great ropes of garlic bulbs hanging in every corner of the room and draped over the doors and windows. For a long moment, Alfred stood there, feeling completely lost. His eyes burned with the need to cry, but he fought not to. He'd been taught long ago that crying never solved anything. Anyway, he was plenty big enough to deal with his problems… even if it did feel like his world had collapsed on his head.

Alfred stripped off his clothes right down to his long underwear and set them as close to the fire as he dared, then he sat on the brick hearth and wrapped the blankets Madam Chagal had given him around himself. He felt dreadful. The fire did warm him, but he still kept shaking.

Professor Abronsius was dead. He'd frozen to death while Alfred had been looking for him. Alfred knew he should have searched faster, should have done something different – though he didn't know what else he could have done. Perhaps Professor Abronsius had been dead when Alfred had found him laying in the snow, but he may have been alive. If Alfred had walked faster, if he'd run through the storm and gotten to the inn faster, then the professor might have been saved.

It was all Alfred's fault.

That sort of guilty thought kept running through Alfred's head and he was unable to sleep. Eventually, he got up and wrapped one of the blankets around himself because he didn't want anyone to see him in his underclothes. That done, he went into the inn's common room, leaving the kitchen door standing open behind him so as to give him enough light to see.

The room was empty. The customers had gone home and the family had gone to bed. The room was eerily silent and the fire in the kitchen gave a dim light to the common room and cast dreadful shadows everywhere. Determined to see for himself, though it would change nothing and would probably give him nightmares, Alfred went to the table where the villagers had laid out Professor Abronsius.

Wringing his hands in his agitation, Alfred stood by the table and looked down at the white shroud. He struggled to build up his courage. He drew in a deep breath before he pulled back the cloth and saw the ghastly pallor of Professor's Abronsius' still face. He felt a rising panic. A pulse. He should check for a pulse. Alfred shakily raised a hand and started to reach for the professor's throat.

"He's dead, if you're wondering."

Alfred turned at the unfamiliar voice and found a young man standing in the common room with him. The young man was, perhaps, a few years older than Alfred's nineteen years and was as elegant as any man could hope to be. He wore fine clothes and a grey cloak that was nearly long enough to touch the ground behind him. His hair was long and, strangely, it was completely white, all bound back at the nape of his neck with a long black ribbon.

The young man smiled at Alfred. He then wrinkled his nose and looked around at the garlic that hung everywhere in the room. "No wonder you look like you want to cry," he said. "This smell is horrifying."

"Good evening, sir." Alfred bowed his head a bit. He knew when he was in the presence of his betters.

The young man laughed, merrily. "'Sir'? Oh, I like that. Aren't you a darling little bird? You may call me Herbert."

 **To be continued…**


	2. The Theft

**Chapter 2: The Theft**

Alfred had never seen anyone quite so pretty as Herbert. He was so well-dressed and had perfectly tidy hair, long and white and tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. He'd never met anyone so young who had white hair, either, but it suited Herbert. Herbert was dressed quite unlike any of the other people Alfred had seen since he'd walked into the inn. While they'll all wore rough, sturdy clothes, Herbert was all silk and lace. He had rings on his fingers and an emerald earring in one ear. His fingernails were very long and painted dark red. Alfred had never seen a man with painted fingernails, before or… was that rouge on his cheeks?

Suddenly very aware that he was wearing nothing but a blanket and his underclothes, Alfred wrapped the blanket a little more securely around himself.

Herbert was staring and he looked like he wanted to laugh.

Nervously, Alfred looked away from Herbert; he didn't like being the center of attention. Instead, he turned back to the body of Professor Abrosius. It just didn't seem right. Professor Abronsius had always been so full of life, so animated no matter what he did, unless he was lost in a book. To see him still and silent… it was wrong. Alfred pressed his fingers against Professor Abronsius' throat.

No pulse.

He truly was dead.

"I did tell you," Herbert commented. "He's dead as a doornail. It's not bad, really. I've seen much messier deaths. How did he die?"

"The cold. I woke up and he was dead. I tried to… it wasn't enough, I guess." Chewing on his bottom lip, Alfred pulled the shroud back over the professor's face. "I don't know what to do now. Mister Chagal said he'll see the professor is buried properly."

Herbert's footsteps on the wooden floor came closer and Alfred turned just enough to watch Herbert. "Maybe you ought to stay here. This isn't a bad little village."

It might be Alfred's only choice. He had no money to get back to England. "Do you live here? Do you work for Mister Chagal?"

Herbert laughed. "No. No, I live up at the castle. I just came down today on a lark. Count Von Krolock had some business tonight, so I decided to join him. He's considering inviting a young lady to a ball he's hosting at his castle." Herbert made a face. "I have no idea why, especially when there is such delightful company down here." At that, Herbert moved so close to Alfred that Alfred couldn't help but look up at him. "What's your name?"

"Alfred Cooper, sir." Alfred quickly looked down and shifted away from Herbert, trying not to look like he was running away. "May I ask you a question, sir?"

Herbert kept grinning. "Of course you may. Alfred… what a sweet name. And you have a charming accent. Wherever did you come from, darling?"

"England, sir. Please, have you lived here long?"

The question seemed to take Herbert by surprise. "More years than you would imagine."

"Then you might know. Mister Chagal said I might owe him a debt if the money I gave him isn't enough to pay for Professor Abronsius' burial."

Herbert leaned forward and said in a confidential manner, "My family has owed a debt to Mister Chagal for quite some time."

"Really? Then you'll know! Umm… how does Mister Chagal collect on his debts?" When Herbert just looked confused, Alfred continued. "I will pay my debt, I wouldn't just run off, but… if I knew what to expect, it would be easier." He wanted to prepare himself. If he was very, very lucky, Mister Chagal would accept manual labor, something Alfred was quite good at. He would be happy as anything to chop wood, scrub floors, or any other chore than needed to be done. But if Mister Chagal wanted other services of a more personal nature… well, Alfred could do that, too. It wasn't as if he'd never done that sort of thing before and, as much as the thought of it might make him feel sick and shaky, he could do it so long as he had time to prepare himself.

"He'd prefer money, of course, but, baring that he'll take what he can get." Herbert shrugged carelessly. "The last time my family owed him, I was sent to settle the debt." He wrinkled his nose. "Such a dreadful man."

Herbert was… sent? Alfred jumped to a conclusion and realized what Herbert was. He was a prostitute. Obviously. With the fancy clothes and jewelry and make-up…he was clearly a high class prostitute. Alfred had heard about such people, employed by the wealthy those prostitutes never had to walk the streets, but he'd never seen one in Whitechapel. It made sense. That was why Herbert lived at the castle he mentioned – he must have been employed by that Count Von Krolock he'd mentioned.

Though he was pleased he'd managed to work that out without embarrassing Herbert by asking directly, Herbert's opinion of Mister Chagal didn't help settle Alfred's steadily growing nerves. Nervously, Alfred wrung his hands in the blanket he was wrapped in. "Please, is Mister Chagal very rough?"

"Rough? Well, I suppose his wife would say he was a diamond in the rough, but that's being a bit generous, if you ask me."

"No, I mean… Is he very demanding?" It was at just that moment that Alfred happened to look passed Herbert and out the common room's window. The storm had settled enough for Alfred to see a figure approaching the inn. He didn't see a face until the person was nearly at the inn and when he did, he gasped and dropped the floor. In an awkward, skittering crawl, he scrambled to just under the window where he couldn't be seen from the outside and froze there.

Herbert blinked at Alfred. "What are you…?"

Desperately, Alfred grabbed Herbert by the hand and yanked. When Herbert fell down in front of Alfred, Alfred pulled at him until Herbert sat next to him under the window.

"Alfred…"

Alfred slapped a hand over Herbert's mouth and held up a finger in front of his lips to signal for silence. Obediently, though with a confused expression, Herbert closed his mouth and sat quietly.

It seemed they waited there for hours until a loud, thumping knock on the front door, only a few feet away from where they hid, broke the silence. Herbert seemed as if he would stand, but Alfred grabbed his arm and frantically shook his head with a pleading expression. Herbert looked at him, questioningly, but made no further attempt to stand.

The knocking didn't stop and Alfred began to worry that Mister Chagal or Madam Chagal would wake and give away his hiding place. He should have stayed in the kitchen, there would be no danger, then.

It was just then that footsteps made both Alfred and Herbert look over. Coming in from the back door of the inn was a large man, broad in the chest and shoulders, who made his way across the common room. He had long, dark hair that was liberally streaked with gray and a fine, black suit with silver buttons. He wore a heavy cloak that swung around him with every step. The man saw Alfred and Herbert sitting on the floor under the window and raised an eyebrow.

The knocking continued.

The man went to the door but stopped there. He gave a wave of his hand and at that sign, Herbert took hold of Alfred's arm and pulled him. Together, they awkwardly crawled across the floor until there was no danger of them being seen through the window. They then stood up and rushed into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. Even with the door closed, it was fairly easy to hear what went on in the other room.

"May I help you?" The stranger asked in a deep, smooth voice.

"Yes."

Alfred recognized Doctor Alibori's voice at once and was very thankful that the man couldn't see him. As far as Alfred was concerned, Doctor Alibori had caused the death of Professor Abronsius. He still didn't know why Doctor Alibori had chased them off the train, but if he hadn't, then the professor would still be alive. Had he jumped off the train after them and tried to follow them through the storm? Alfred couldn't imagine why. It made no sense.

"I am looking for an old man carrying a bag. He goes by the name Professor Abronsius. He is short with white hair, spectacles, and usually walks with the help of an umbrella," Doctor Alibori said. "He may be in the company of a young man with sandy hair. I can make it worth your while if you have seen them."

The stranger sounded amused when he asked, "Do I look as if I am in need of a bribe?"

Doctor Alibori snarled, "Have you seen them or not?"

"I have not. Perhaps you may check with the other villagers; someone may have given them shelter from the storm."

"This is an inn?" Doctor Alibori asked. "I will take a room for the night."

"As you wish. However, you may want to make your inquiries about these missing people now or risk missing them if they decide to move on before dawn."

"True. I'll be back shortly."

It shocked Alfred. As much as he didn't want to be around Doctor Alibori, he found it amazing that the man would continue his search at night and while the storm had died down considerably; there were still snowflakes in the air. He must have had some vital need to find Alfred and the professor. Perhaps, Alfred hoped, it had all been some big misunderstanding. Maybe he was coming to apologize. Alfred didn't know Doctor Alibori except for what little Professor Abronsius would complain about his rival and had only seen him a couple of times.

Alfred heard the front door close. Shortly after, the stranger swept into the kitchen.

"Oh!" Herbert crowed with mischievous delight. "You told a lie!"

The man sniffed. "I did no such thing, Herbert. I have seen no old man and this young man," he gestured towards Alfred. "Obviously has chestnut hair, not sandy."

"Well, I suppose that is true." Herbert smiled. "Come meet my new friend, Alfred. Alfred, please allow me to introduce Count Von Krolock."

Count Von Krolock wasn't the first nobleman Alfred had ever encountered, but it was the first he'd been so nicely introduced to. Alfred kept his face lowered and made sure the blanket covered as much of himself as possible.

"A pleasure, young man. I presume from your behavior that you don't want that man to know you are here. I have just informed Mister and Madam Chagal about what has happened tonight and they know that I will be displeased if that man discovers your presence because they have decided to talk. The dead man out there is Professor Abronsius, I take it?" At Alfred's nod, the count continued. "Mister and Madam Chagal will move the body of your professor to prevent that man from seeing him. I suggest you make yourself scarce, if you don't want to be discovered." Count Von Krolock paused. "May I ask why you are undressed?"

"My clothes are wet," Alfred mumbled. His heart was thudding painfully.

"I see. And why were you hiding from that man?"

"He was chasing us! He's the reason Professor Abronsius died!"

"Isn't he sweet?" Herbert beamed at Alfred.

Rather than answering, Count Von Krolock considered Alfred, thoughtfully. "Where have you come from?"

"England, sir." He shuffled a little backwards when the count stepped closer to him.

"You speak Romanian very well. What business brings you here?"

Alfred shrugged. "I worked for Professor Abronsius. He wanted to get off the train here."

"No train stops at this village."

"Yes, but Doctor Alibori chased after us and Professor Abronsius decided that we had to get off the train at once. I don't know why we were chased."

"Stop muttering at you feet."

Alfred's head instantly shot up at the order.

Count Von Krolock's voice softened. "Much better. Well-behaved young gentlemen give their attention to the people they speak with. It is very poor manners not to look at the person you are speaking with."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

All the while, Herbert fidgeted until he finally burst out with, "May he come to the castle?"

"Is that what you really want?" Count Von Krolcok raised an eyebrow. "When we have so many guests? Or would you like to invite him after the other guests leave?"

Herbert paused, then frowned. He decisively nodded his head. "After the guests leave, please." He winked at Alfred. "We can have lots of fun if you come up to the castle."

All at once, Alfred felt all the blood drain from his face. He was pretty sure he knew what kind of fun Herbert wanted to have. "I… I don't think I'm staying here long. I should go."

"Go where? If you plan to go back to England, then you will have to wait until spring when the roads become passable as I doubt you'll get back on the train the way you got off without killing yourself. In the meanwhile, we should become friends. I'm a very good friend. I know all the best games to play."

"I don't like playing games."

Herbert's face fell. "Oh."

Count Von Krolock cleared his throat. "The night grows late, Herbert. We need to leave."

"Fine." Herbert gave Alfred a last, pitiful look. "I hope you change your mind. Good evening, Alfred."

As they left, Alfred heard Herbert asked the count, "Have you decided?"

"I will invite her tomorrow night. She will come to the ball."

They strolled out together, with Herbert throwing another wink at Alfred over his shoulder before the door closed behind them.

Alone, Alfred went to the single window of the inn's kitchen and looked out. The storm had settled, but the darkness was so deep that he couldn't see any signs of Herbert or the count. He wondered that they hadn't taken a lantern to light their way.

Alfred emptied out Professor Abronsius' bags onto the floor to see what resources he had to work with. There were clothes, but Professor Abronsius' clothes were likely too big for Alfred and he didn't feel quite right about wearing a dead man's clothes. It seemed disrespectful, somehow. There was a nearly full flask of brandy and he hoped that might be enough to pay off any debt Mister Chagal might be owed. There was some food which Alfred gratefully nibbled on, though he saved what he could in case he needed it later. There were travel papers and a wooden box holding pencils. When Alfred had finished going though the one bag, he began on the other. It contained very little: a wooden stake and mallet, a cross, a journal, and a book.

The book was unexpected.

Alfred curiously put the book on his lap and ran his hand over the plain, unadorned leather clover. It was very big and the yellowed pages showed the great age of the book. It was… familiar. He'd seen it before. Alfred opened the book to the first page and then recognized it. Alfred couldn't read the words as his reading skills were modest, at best, and the book had been written in a language Alfred had never seen. Despite that, he remembered seeing the book - his memory was superb. He recognized the shapes of the words, even if he didn't understand what the words meant.

"But…" Alfred whispered to himself. "Why did Professor Abronsius have this?" It didn't belong to the professor. The day they'd arrived in Bucharest, Professor Abronsius had led them directly to a museum. It was a fine old intuition, a stone building that housed great art as well as historical treasures. In a dusty back room, for all intents and purposes forgotten by the museum's curator, they'd found a room of old books. With great purpose, Professor Abronsius had dug through those books, giving most a mere glance before he moved onto the next. The book, once found, occupied Professor Abronsius' time for many hours. Alfred had seen the book only briefly, but it had been long enough to remember what the words on that first page looked like.

It came to Alfred that Professor Abronsius must have stolen the book. Museums didn't just give away their things. He couldn't bring himself to be terribly shocked by the professor's theft. The professor had always been obsessive about his work and Alfred strongly suspected that the book had something to do with vampires, though Professor Abronsius had never told him what it was. The question was: what was Alfred to do with the book?

Alfred did sleep that night, though it was late enough when he woke that everyone at the inn – Mister and Madam Chagal as well as the busty barmaid, Miss Magda, were working in the yard in front of the inn. Alfred peered out the tiny kitchen window at the domestic scene of Mister Chagal sawing a log, Madam Chagal plucking a goose, and Miss Magda chopping turnips before he turned away and dressed himself in dry clothes, still pleasantly warm from the fire. He didn't know where they'd moved Professor Abronsius' body, but the idea of leaving the kitchen to look or ask made him quail. He very much didn't want to run into Doctor Alibori. He couldn't hide forever, but he did hope to hide long enough for Doctor Alibori to give up on looking for him and leave the village. So he spent the day hiding in the kitchen and chatted amiably with Madam Chagal every time she came in to prepare some meal for her guests. He cleaned at her direction and happily helped prepare meals when she asked him for a hand.

He would have been content to stay hiding in the kitchen, but early that night there was a great commotion when the Chagal's daughter, Sarah, had apparently run off into the night to the nearby castle and Mister Chagal, when he'd gone looking for her, had been found dead only an hour later. In her grief, Madam Chagal sat crying in the empty common room of her inn, using her apron to cover her face while she wept.

Madam Chagal had been uncommonly kind to Alfred. She had allowed him to sleep inside the inn, right next to a fire, and even lend him blankets and given him food and she'd asked for nothing in return. There had been few people in the world that had been so kind to him. Without a word to her, Alfred made up his mind to find Sarah for Madam Chagal. He put on his jacket and mittens and tugged on his cap and slipped away from the inn with the two bags in his hands. He was so very happy to be useful to Madam Chagal.

The castle, when Alfred finally reached it, was more ominous that Alfred had suspected. It was immense and ancient. The moon hung high in the sky behind it. The night was cold, but not as bad as it had been the night Alfred had stumbled into the village. He stood at the tall, rod iron gates of the castle, wondering why Sarah would have come to such a place and was just about to call out to see if someone would let him in when a hand landed on his arm and spun him around.

"Doctor Alibori." Alfred gave a quick nod of his head. "What are you doing here." He clutched the two leather bags to his chest, protectively, and took a step back, away from Doctor Alibori.

"Where is Abronsius?"

"He's dead." Alfred couldn't see the harm in telling that truth.

Doctor Alibori nodded, thoughtfully. "Good." He was tall, thin man with squinting eyes and thin, wispy hair that couldn't quite cover the liver spots on his scalp. He moved towards Alfred with all the grace of a spider. "Give me the book."

Alfred's hands tightened on the bags in his arms. Apparently, Doctor Alibori didn't want to apologize. There could be only one book he wanted and while Alfred very much wanted Doctor Alibori to go away, to just give him what he wanted when he was the reason Professor Abronsius was dead seemed like a great betrayal. Besides, if he wanted it so badly that he was willing to attack them, then Alfred was pretty sure he shouldn't have the book. So he said, "I haven't got any books."

"You're a terrible liar, Alfred. Give me the book. It doesn't belong to you – it didn't even belong to Abronsius."

"I don't have a book." Alfred stepped back a pace in an effort to get away from Doctor Alibori, but he stepped on a patch of ice and felt his foot slip from under him. He fell backwards. His head hit something hard and the pain was so terrible that he nearly blacked out. Stars danced in front of his eyes and, dazed, he lay on his back in the snow. He trembled all over, but couldn't get his eyes to focus long enough to stand up.

With a head so rattled that he could barely tell up from down, Alfred watched while Doctor Alibori leaned over him. Doctor Alibori picked up one of Alfred's bags. He rifled through it for a moment before he put it down and picked up the other one. From that one, he quickly pulled out the large, strange book and the expression on his face when he looked at the book was so terrible that Alfred would never forget it. Even dazed as he was, Alfred felt horror at the sight of such greed and triumph mixed together on Doctor Alibori's face. Doctor Alibori dropped the leather bag before he, without a single glance to where Alfred lay, turned and walked away with the book.

Alfred thought he might have fallen asleep, for a while.

He woke, without opening his eyes, to grasping, pawing hands running over his legs and up his arms. The feeling of being touched in such way made every nerve in Alfred's body scream. His skin crawled. Bad, bad memories of being touched began to swamp his mind until Alfred was hardly aware of anything but the overwhelming terror.

Then, there was a voice. It was low and smooth and it made the terrible hands go away. Something heavy and warm was draped over Alfred and the voice became softer. He felt long, strong fingers stroke over his brow, but far from being comforting, it brought up more bad memories and Alfred whined, turning his head to escape the hands. The hands went away and Alfred, finally calming, opened his eyes.

Count Von Krolock knelt at Alfred's side – in the snow! – and looked down at him, curiously. He'd covered Alfred with his cloak, like a blanket. On Alfred's other side, Herbert looked down at Alfred with a concerned expression.

With a gasp, Alfred sat up abruptly and immediately wished he hadn't. His head throbbed with agonizing pain and he nearly vomited. After a minute, his stomach settled and he looked back at Count Von Krolock.

"Good evening, young man." Count Von Krolock rose to his impressive height and looked down at Alfred like a lion looking down at a mouse. "Welcome to my home. Won't you come in?"

Alfred slowly got to his feet. When the count offered a hand, Alfred refused as politely as he could with an, "I'm alright. I can do it." As soon as Alfred's head stopped spinning, he caught sight of Herbert watching him, but looked away when Herbert smiled. Alfred looked at the count and said, "I'm looking for a girl…"

Herbert interrupted with an indignant huff. "A girl? But I was waiting for you!"

 **To be continued…**


	3. White Fire

**Chapter 3: White Fire**

Alfred watched Herbert stomp back into the castle in a huff with regret. It would have been nice to have an ally in Herbert. He had been friendly, even if it had been too friendly for Alfred's comfort, and Herbert at least was familiar with Count Von Krolock and might have been able to help Alfred find the missing girl if it turned out that she wasn't at the castle, but was lost somewhere in the forest.

With a cautious glance at Count Von Krolock, Alfred said, "I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend him." He handed the count's cloak back to him.

Count Von Krolock waved away the apology. "He is a bit highly strung and will get over it. I can assure you that he will still want to be friends with you."

Alfred had a hard time staying on his feet as the world tipped this way and that, but he tried so hard to listen to Count Von Krolock. Here, in the dim moonlight, he seemed even more ominous that he had down at the inn. If there was one thing life had taught Alfred, it was that being polite to people who were bigger than he was, was the easiest way to not get hurt. The count was much bigger than he was and was nobility – Alfred didn't have much of a choice but to obey. Rich and powerful men didn't react well when they were disobeyed; that was another lesson Alfred had learned long ago.

Count Von Krolock smiled pleasantly at Alfred and repeated, "Won't you come in? I do so love having guests and I would be very pleased to have you stay for a long while and rest with us. In fact, I won't hear of you leaving."

He spoke so affably, and his smile was so very friendly that Alfred felt a good deal of his tension slip away. He even felt a surge of pleasure at the gracious invitation. That the count stood there looking so dignified and proud in his dark suit while Alfred wore his threadbare clothes that were fraying at the cuffs and patched on the elbows, and STILL the count would speak to him as if Alfred were an honored guest rather than the homeless pauper he was… well. It was incredibly flattering.

"Thank you, sir," Alfred said. "But I really don't need to. I really am looking for a girl. The innkeeper's daughter ran off and her parents thought she might have come up here." Alfred's head hurt fiercely. He must have hit it badly when he'd fallen.

The count touch Alfred's arm and Alfred jumped away, his heart suddenly thudding and his throat clenched up tight at the unexpected touch. When the count did nothing but look at him, curiously, Alfred flushed. "I'm sorry." He didn't like being touched. He really didn't like unexpected touches. But the count didn't grab him or try to hurt him and it made Alfred feel all the more foolish for not being able to control himself.

Thankfully, the count said nothing of the matter. "I really think you are in need of a long rest. Come inside."

"There were people here… I think." Alfred was fairly certain he remember hands touching him after he'd hit his head.

"My guests found you before I did, I'm afraid." He waited patiently while Alfred gathered up the two leather bags then led him into the castle.

The main entrance of the castle was a large room with several doors and a stairway leading to upper levels. They found Herbert in the main entrance where he reclined elegantly against a wall, waiting for them.

It wasn't until they stood in the middle of that large room that Count Von Krolock took a long look at Alfred and began to walk around him, looking him up and down. "Goodness, you're bleeding."

"I hit my head." Alfred pulled his cap off his head and held in front of him, nervously clenching and unclenching his hands on it. The scrutiny was terrible.

"You must be careful when walking about in such weather. If you'd slipped anywhere else but on my doorstep, you might not have been found until it was too late to save you." Count Von Krolock set a hand on Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred froze at the touch. He was cold right to the pit of his stomach and it had nothing to do with the weather. He closed his eyes, struggling not to pull away and risk offending the count. He did NOT want to be touched! But… he couldn't move because the count was bigger than him and if he made the count angry…

Finally, Alfred choked out the words, "The girl I'm looking for… her name is Sarah. Sarah Chagal."

"The young lady is my guest and has retired for the evening. The long trek from the village up here is tiring, though she showed remarkable vigor. We will let her sleep as it would be poor manners to wake a lady while she's sleeping." He hesitated for the briefest of moments. "I am pleased to have another guest, but I do think it would have been better if you'd waited for Herbert's invitation, though. Still, no sense bemoaning that, now."

The mild admonishment made guilt curl in Alfred's stomach. He hadn't meant to just show up without a proper invitation and hurried to explain himself. "Oh, I wasn't going to intrude. Honest! I just… Sarah's mother is very upset. I said I'd bring her home."

Cont Von Krolock gave Alfred an approving look. "Ah, so you're a hero? A young knight who would save the fair lady?"

Alfred had no idea what to say to that. "I… ah… I just want to bring her home. Her mother is crying. You see, Miss Chagal ran off when her parents weren't looking and then her father was found dead. I don't think anything will make Madam Chagal feel better except seeing that her daughter is safe." Alfred put a hand up to his aching head.

An unintelligible sound made Alfred turn to look at the door they'd just come through and he saw a man walk in. He was all bent over and with a heavy limp and weighed down by a large hump on his back, the man was unable to walk properly. Instead, he moved with a shuffling, hopping sort of gait that brought him quickly to the count's side. His clothes were shameful – all patched and fraying at the edges. He most likely had to make do with whatever might fit him and there was probably never anything that fit quite right. But he was clean and had sharp, clever eyes.

"This," Count Von Krolock said as he very casually took Alfred's bags out of his hands. "Is my manservant, Koukol. He takes excellent care of us."

Koukol puffed up at the compliment.

"Koukol, this is our newest guest, Alfred. Find medical supplies so that the boy might be bandaged." Once Koukol had gone off to do what he was told, the count went to a long table set next to a wall and put both bags on it. "He really is the best servant I could wish for. His loyalty is absolute," the count remarked, almost carelessly, while he opened one of Alfred's bags and began to rummage around inside it. He pulled out a pair of socks and the flask of alcohol before he put them back where he'd found them. "You will be staying at least until tomorrow night, but I have hopes that your stay will last much, much longer."

"Yes," Herbert, apparently recovered from his bruised feelings, was at Alfred's side and smiled sweetly at him. "Do stay. I know you said you don't like games, but we can find other things to do." He leaned a little close and reached a hand behind Alfred's head. He ran his fingers over the sore spot on the back of Alfred's head, making Alfred wince and jerk away from the touch. "I'll be so worried for you if you wander away in this state." Herbert looked down at his bloody fingers. There was something strange in the way he stared at the blood. Something… hungry. Then he turned away from Alfred and raised his hand up to his mouth. Alfred wondered if he were smelling the blood.

"Oh, no. That's alright," Alfred quickly said. "I don't want to be any trouble. I'll go and come back for Miss Chagal in the morning when she's awake." Perhaps, it occurred to Alfred, he ought to be upset about the count rummaging thought the bags, but he couldn't do anything about it, so it seemed pointless to get upset. After all, he was only Alfred; there was no reason for a count to listen to him.

The count looked at Alfred over his shoulder with something like amusement in his eyes. "You think I would allow a nice young man, injured and without proper clothing for this weather, go wandering in the mountains alone in the middle of the night? No, I don't think that would be a good idea. You will stay the night." He closed up the first bag and then opened the second. The count went very still at what he saw before he reached in and pulled out the professor's wooden stake and mallet. He turned to Alfred with a raised eyebrow. "And what is this?"

Alfred looked down at his feet. "Ah… well…" He really was rubbish at lying so didn't try, though he knew the truth would get him laughed at. "It's vampire hunting stuff."

"Vampire hunting… stuff."

"Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Excellency." He was sure that was more proper. "The man I worked for, Professor Abronsius, he said he was a vampire hunter and those are his tools. There's a cross in there, too." The cross, Alfred knew, was wrapped in a piece of burlap so the count wouldn't have noticed it.

Count Von Krolock quickly put the stake and mallet back in the bag and closed it. "So, the dead man at the inn was Professor Abronsius? I have read several of his books. And you? Are you also a vampire hunter?"

"Oh, no. I carry the bags. I also do the washing and run errands."

"So, you don't run around in grave yards and shove bits of wood into corpses?"

Alfred shook his head. "No. Professor Abronsius tried to teach me how, but he said I was very bad at it." Just thinking back to those times when the professor had tried to teach him made Alfred embarrassed. He'd learned to dread Professor Abronsius' harsh judgments about his lack of intelligence and courage.

"Hardly something to be ashamed of," the count commented while he pulled out Professor Abronsius' small black notebook that he used to keep a record of his travels and studies. The count flipped through the notebook, almost carelessly. "I'm sure there are more sensible things for you to study."

"Oh, no. I'm very stupid. I don't study anything, I just carry things."

"I see." The count put Professor Abronsius' notebook back in the bag and handed it to Alfred. "There, all your belongings."

But Alfred shook his head and said, without much thought, "The other book was stolen."

"Stolen?" Herbert, his hand cleaned of Alfred's blood, moved closer to them. He ran both hands down the front of his jacked and straightened his back as much as he could to make himself look taller. He gave his full attention to Alfred and, when Alfred looked at him, his face brightened.

Alfred nodded. "Yes. Outside the castle, there was a man and he took the book after I slipped and hit my head. I suppose he's long gone, now."

Koukol returned with bandages, then. He had Alfred sit in a chair near the bottom of the stairs and then very carefully wrapped a long strip of fabric round Alfred's head several times. When he was done, Alfred looked at Koukol and said, "Thank you, sir."

Koukol seemed shocked at the courtesy. He stared at Alfred for a moment, and then turned to look at the amused count, who only shrugged as if to say, 'who can explain such mysteries?'. Koukol left, quickly, clearly unsure how to handle people who were nice to him. Alfred knew the feeling.

"Herbert," the count gestured at Alfred. "Put him by a fire and let him dry out."

"Of course," Herbert happily agreed. "I'll get him out of these wet clothes at once and warm him up."

"Herbert," the count said, warningly.

"Yes?"

"Be nice. He's our guest."

"I'm always nice."

"Then be good."

Herbert sighed with disappointment. "If I must." He took a lit candle from one of the candelabras to light their way and gave Alfred a slight bow. "This way, please. Let me know if you feel faint and I'll carry you."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"Believe me, I wouldn't mind a bit. Why, I'll wager you're as light as feather."

It wasn't until they were in a hall on the upper level that Alfred asked, "How did you come to be here, Herbert? Was the village your home?"

Herbert didn't answer for a time and Alfred guessed he was trying to think up a lie to avoid embarrassment. Alfred would have. To save him the effort, Alfred said, "It's alright; I know all about you."

"You do?"

"Oh, yes. I know exactly what you are." He hoped that it didn't sound accusing at all because he was the last person who should be making judgments. Pots and kettles and glass houses, after all.

Herbert stopped walking and looked at Alfred through narrowed eyes. "You do not!"

"Yes, I do. Really. There's lots of your kind back where I grew up." While Alfred knew it didn't do much good, he remembered many times when he'd felt so alone in the world and could only imagine that Herbert, living in near isolation, must feel the loneliness even more painfully. Alfred thought that by telling Herbert how well he understood what position Herbert was in (not that Alfred wanted to even think about what positions the count might put Hebert in!) Herbert might find some comfort. And, if Alfred did end up staying in the village, it was possible that they might become friends. That would be nice; Alfred had never had a friend.

"Really?"

"Really. I would see them every night." He didn't bother to add that in Whitechapel, there had never been a prostitute who dressed so finely as Herbert and even in Whitechapel the men who earned their money that way would never dare to be so flamboyantly obvious. Things, apparently, were very different in the east. "They were always in the streets looking for someone to… well… you know."

"Really? How very interesting. And they just hung around on the streets to hunt?"

Hunt. Alfred had never heard it described that way, but it was rather accurate. "Yes. You could say that."

Herbert looked very thoughtful. "You're from England, I think you said? You have a darling English accent. I must make a trip there, I think."

Alfred didn't think Herbert would really like Whitechapel; he was too splendid for Whitechapel.

The bedroom Herbert brought Alfred to was far more than Alfred could have hoped for. Herbert set the candle in a little candlestick on the bedside table and told Alfred, "This will be your room. It hasn't been used for a while, but it's warm and dry. There's even glass in the window to keep the cold out. Most of the older rooms haven't got glass windows."

"Thank you," Alfred said, sincerely. He almost gaped at the size of the huge canopy bed. It was certainly nicer than anything he'd ever had before. The room was a bit dusty, true, but the bed looked so warm and comfortable. He watched while Herbert knelt in front of the fireplace and, with one strike of a flint and steel, lit a fire that gave a warm glow to the room. There were huge paintings on one wall and a tapestry depicting an army of knights riding out onto a battlefield on another. It was the very image of opulent, to Alfred's mind.

It was almost too much. Alfred felt quite small and dirty standing in the fine room. He certainly didn't belong there.

"Do you like it?" Herbert asked. "It's not as nice as it might be, but we weren't expecting you so soon. I was rather hoping you'd be up here in a few nights and I'd have had time to get some nice things out of storage. Your clothes, for example." He 'tsked' at what Alfred wore. "I should get you something better to wear, but I'm not sure if we have anything in your size."

It was a very nice way to say that Alfred was scrawny. "I don't need clothes," Alfred assured him. "Mine will dry by the fire."

Herbert hummed thoughtfully, and then asked, "Your head still pains you, doesn't it? I feel so badly that you were hurt. Won't you let me help you get ready for bed? I'll help take your clothes off and we should rub you down with a towel as you've gotten wet by laying in the snow. I can be very helpful. I should bring you food, too. Are you hungry? I can give you something that will really fill you up."

There was almost certainly an innuendo in there, but Herbert said it all so sweetly that Alfred didn't want to say anything in case he was wrong.

"That's alright. I'm really just tired. It's very kind of the count to let me stay."

Herbert laughed and went to the wardrobe from which he pulled out a white nightshirt. "'Kind' isn't how people usually describe him. Speaking of being kind – thank you for being polite to Koukol. He isn't often treated very well, but he does appreciate it." He gave Alfred a thoughtful look while he held out the nightshirt and waited for Alfred to take it. "I think you must have a very good heart." He sighed rather sadly, for some reason Alfred didn't understand, then gave Alfred a wink and left the room.

Alone, Alfred undressed and set all his clothes to dry by the fire before he pulled on the nightshirt Herbert lent him. He'd never actually had a nightshirt, before. Instead, he'd normally just slept in his underclothes. It felt funny not to wear them, but he rather liked it. The nightshirt was made of soft, warm flannel. Alfred spent a good deal of time sitting in front of the fire, warming his hands and toes until he finally got the feeling back in them. He sat there until his face was almost hot from the fire, but it was such a pleasure to be warm. When he could hardly keep his eyes open, Alfred blew out the candle and finally went to the bed and slipped under the heavy blankets. There were at least four thick blankets on the bed and he smiled when the weight of them settled on him.

A knock on the door brought Alfred right back awake and he sat up just as Herbert threw open the door and strolled in. At the sight of Alfred in bed, Herbert grinned and sat on the edge of the bed. He held out a pair of heavy, woolen socks. "I thought I'd give you these to keep your feet warm. Father mentioned you'd come all this way in the snow and that your feet were likely half-frozen."

"Thank you, they look… wait. Your father?"

"Yes." Herbert laughed. "Did you forget already? You've met him twice. Count Von Krolock."

Alfred felt the blood drain from his face. "His Excellency is your father?"

"Yes."

Oh.

"So, you're not his…" Alfred stopped talking at once. He bit his tongue hard and wished he'd kept his big mouth shut. Why was he so stupid? Why couldn't he be smart just once?

"Not his what?" Herbert asked, innocently. "What did you think I was?"

"I…I mean, I thought… the way you dress… and I thought…" Alfred gave up. He lay down and threw the blankets over his face to hide. "Never mind! I didn't think anything!"

"I'm not sure why you're upset, but," Herbert's big hand rested on Alfred's hip. "I am very happy you came. It's just a bit of a pity it had to be now. Still… that's just how it is." He left, then.

Alfred, still hiding under the blankets, waited until he heard the bedroom door open and close before he peeked over the blankets and found that he was, indeed, alone. Herbert had left the socks for Alfred on the foot of the bed.

He was absolutely mortified! He'd gone and thought the young lord was a prostitute! How stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He could just kick himself!

It was only a blessing that Herbert hadn't realized Alfred's mistake because, Alfred knew, that would surely be the end of his welcome in the castle and, most likely, the village. After all, the count was the local lord and if he said Alfred couldn't stay in the village, he would have to go. But where? He would be left wandering the cold mountains and freeze to death just like the professor. Or he would starve. If he were remarkably lucky, it was possible that he might be able to jump the next train, if he followed the rails long enough. It seemed more likely that wolves would find him and devour him.

He wouldn't really mind staying in the village if he could make sure it was safe. Madam Chagal was wonderful and while he had worried about what Mister Chagal might demand for repaying a debt, he had little doubt that Madam Chagal would accept him chopping wood or cleaning or any other physical labor he could do for her. That wouldn't be bad. In fact, it sounded quite nice. But if the count disliked him or was angry at him for any reason…

Alfred would have to the keep Count Von Krolock happy by any means.

It was soon after, exhausted by the events of the night, that Alfred fell asleep. While he slept, he dreamed.

…

Alfred woke with a gasp, throwing off the heavy blankets and almost falling off the bed in an effort to get away from his nightmare. There had been writhing, aggressive things that had crawled out from under his bed and cavorted around the room and on the bed with wild abandon. Doctor Alibori had been standing in the corner of the room, nearly concealed by shadows, and held the stolen book in his arms. He'd dreamed that Herbert, standing on the corner of the bed with one arm wrapped loosely around one of the corner posts that supported the canopy, watched Alfred as he slept. He dreamed that Count Von Krolock supervised the mad party with satisfaction and pride. And around the perimeter of the revelry, stood faceless people from Alfred's miserable past, all silent and waiting for Alfred to venture too close.

Awake and freed of his nightmare, Alfred sat on the bed, drenched in sweat and panting for breath. His hands were shaking and his head still hurt, but, after a time, he was able to get himself under control. Eventually, his breathing evened out and he was able to get out of the bed.

The sun shone in from the window. His clothes had dried over night and he was happy to dress in the dry clothes and eat the hot porridge that had been left for him on a tray. With a full stomach, he left the room to search for the missing girl.

Alfred didn't take the leather bags with him when he went to search. After all, it wasn't as if he was going to hunt vampires in the castle.

He wandered high and low and saw not a single sign of any girls. The castle wasn't so ominous with sunlight shining through the windows. The halls were still cold and it seemed that Alfred's every footstep echoed, but most of the castle seemed quite nice. He didn't find Miss Chagal. As he wandered, Alfred left the sunny halls of the castle and ventured beneath it to the darkness of what he had, at first, thought was a basement, but turned out to be a crypt. He didn't like it. The place was dark and damp and smelled odd. He had a hard time imagining that any girl would want to be in such a place so he moved on.

The day went on and shortly after the sun had set, Alfred stumbled upon the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Herbert standing at a table with an unlabeled bottle in one hand and glass filled with some thick, dark red liquid in the other. Herbert drank deeply from the glass and, when he finished, he licked his lips and smiled in satisfaction.

Fangs!

Alfred heart nearly jumped into his throat when he saw the long fangs in Herbert's mouth. He knew at once what that meant; Professor Abronsius had taught him well, after all. Alfred turned and bolted. He ran only about five steps before he crashed into a solid wall and looked up to find that he had, in fact, crashed into Count Von Krolock.

"My dear boy, whatever is the matter?"

For just a moment, Alfred forgot all his other fears. He grabbed the count's arm and pointed back at the kitchen. "He's a… Herbert! It's Herbert! Oh, sir, he's a vampire!"

Count Von Krolock raised an eyebrow. His lips twitched. "Really?"

"Yes! I saw his fangs. I saw them!"

Count Von Krolock patted Alfred on the cheek, but stopped when Alfred pulled away. "I'm terribly sorry you had such a scare. I'll talk to Herbert and tell him not to frighten you."

The count was taking the whole vampire thing very calmly. Alfred's shoulders slumped. "You don't believe me."

"Now, now. No getting yourself worked up, again. I think you're under a lot of stress with your rescue mission. There's nothing for you to worry about."

"But he is a vampire. I'm not lying. He is! Look, the professor told me all about vampires. They creep in and suck all your blood and then you have to be one too and they just go around killing everyone!" Alfred wrung his hands together in his agitation while he shifted from foot to foot. "He'll kill you!"

"He'll do no such thing; Herbert is a good boy. Now, I think you need to eat and drink. I want you to keep up your strength." He took the hesitant Alfred back to the kitchen where, to Alfred's relief, Herbert had vanished. The count allowed Alfred to eat his fill, which was a whole new, very pleasant, experience. He filled up on bread, goat meat, a handful of dates, and a tin cup of water. When finished, he felt so full that he might have burst and thought himself quite the glutton. All the while that Alfred ate, the count watched benevolently, but he didn't join in. It was too early to tell, but Alfred began to get the idea that the count might not be a bad sort at all. He appeared to be pleasant and friendly, anyway. When Alfred could eat no more Count Von Krolock asked, "Do you feel better?"

"Yes, Excellency. But… but I'm still sure of what I saw. Herbert…"

"We'll leave that for now. I'm curious about this book that was stolen from you. I sent Koukol out last night after you told us you were robbed. He found footprints leading back down to the village, but none of the villagers saw any strangers. Could you tell me about this stolen book?"

Alfred squirmed with his ignorance. The count really had been very civil to him, more kind than Alfred probably deserved, and it pained Alfred not to be able to tell him everything he wanted to know. "Not really. Professor Abronsius found it in Bucharest, in a museum. I didn't know he had it until I opened his bag in the village. I didn't know he'd taken it. If I can get it back, I'll take it back to the museum."

The count seemed amused, but approvingly said, "Such a good boy." The praise gave Alfred a pleasantly warm feeling in his gut. The count continued, "Let's think for a moment: why would two men want an old book enough to steal it? Can you think of anything that either man said that might hint at the reason?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know. I don't even know what the book was."

"You can't read, then."

"Oh, I can read… a little. But that book wasn't written in German and that's all I know how to read. I could copy the words out if you really want to know."

"You said you couldn't read it."

"No, but I can copy it." It was his only real value – his memory. Professor Abronsius had said that Alfred had a perfect memory. No matter what he saw, he could remember it flawlessly. So it was no difficulty at all for him to copy the unfamiliar words.

The count took Alfred to the library. It was a fantastic library and must have held a hundred thousand books. The count had him sit at a writing desk with a piece of paper, an inkwell, and a dip pen. He watched over Alfred's shoulder as Alfred carefully and slowly drew out the words he'd seen written on the first page of the stolen book. It made Alfred very nervous to have someone standing so close to his back, but he did his best to ignore his nerves.

After Alfred had written only a few dozen words, he was abruptly stopped when a claw-like hand suddenly shot over his shoulder and snatched the paper away from Alfred so viciously that the ink well was upset and black ink ran all over the count's fine writing desk. Alfred anxiously used the sleeve of his red jacket to mop up the spill, though it did little but smear the ink around and make it look more of a mess.

A heavy hand landed on Alfred's shoulder and he looked up to find Count Von Krolock glowering down at him. He froze in place, desperately wondering what he'd done wrong and how he could fix it. The only thing he could think of was the spilled ink, but that hadn't been his fault. Still, he muttered an apology which the count ignored completely.

"My boy," Count Von Krolock slowly said. "Do not ever copy those words again. Do you understand?"

Thinking that maybe that the book had been an obscene book or that the words had been vulgar cursing, Alfred tentatively asked, "Was it bad?" He hadn't meant any offense.

"Very bad. It was disgusting." The count growled out his words so viciously that Alfred cringed away from him.

"Yes, Excellency, but… what was it?"

The paper Alfred had written on was at once crushed in the count's hand, crumpled into an angry ball. "It is nothing you need to worry about now. I will deal with it. The man who stole the book – do you know him?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. I've seen him a couple of times when Professor Abronsius had to go to professional gatherings. He was Professor Abronsius' rival – Doctor Alibori."

"Another vampire hunter?"

"I think so. I've overheard some very strange conversations between them, but I didn't really understand any of it."

"I see." Count Von Krolock walked to the fire and, without any further explanation, threw the crumpled up paper onto the fire where it instantly caught light and, to Alfred's astonishment, exploded in a flare of white fire. The count turned back to Alfred and firmly repeated, "NEVER write those words, again!"

 **To be continued…**


	4. Don't Tell Him!

**Chapter 4: "Don't Tell!"**

Alfred watched as Count Von Krolock turned so sharply that his huge cloak whirled around him in an impressively dramatic fashion. He strode through the library door with a purposeful stride and, just as he stepped through the door, he furiously bellowed, "Angus!"

For a long while after the count had left the library, Alfred sat there with his ink-stained jacket on his lap and stared, wide-eyed at the still open door. Alone and more than a little confused about what had just happened, Alfred brought his thumb up to mouth and chewed on his thumbnail.

"Oh," Alfred groaned around his thumb. "Now I've done it! Stupid Alfred!"

He didn't know exactly what had upset the count so badly, but it was pretty clear that it had been whatever Alfred had written and now the count was so angry and he was probably angry at Alfred just for writing the bad words. Alfred felt very strongly that he ought to chase after Count Von Krolock and apologize, but he didn't understand what he'd done wrong so he couldn't honestly apologize.

Still, he was honestly sorry that he'd upset the count. That would be good to apologize for and maybe the count would calm down and he wouldn't send for Angus. Alfred didn't know who Angus was, but the way the count shouted for him convinced Alfred that Angus must be bad news.

His anxiety grew so quickly and to such heights that Alfred was soon pacing around the library, chewing his thumbnail and debating with himself whether to go after Count Von Krolock or to wait and hope that the count's temper cooled. As he paced, he kept looking back to the fireplace where the paper Alfred had written on had burst into white fire – it had been something like magic.

During the course of his pacing and pondering, Alfred's eyes fell on a book on one of the dusty book shelves that he yearned to clean. It was quite small, but the title written on the spine was in German and he was delighted to find that he could read it. It was a book of love poems – nothing at all that Professor Abronsius would find any value in - but the words were simple and Alfred, haltingly, read the first poem with pleasure. He liked the poem and was so proud of himself that he knew all the words, but the thought of falling in love seemed so frighteningly alien that Alfred found he didn't really understand it.

Alfred heard singing.

The voice was soft and sweet and Alfred followed it out of the library and down the hall. When he finally came to the room he was certain the voice came from, the door was open. Alfred poked his head into the room. It was a bedroom and looked far more lived in than the one Alfred had been given. Everything was clean, but comfortably cluttered with assorted knick-knacks that followed no particular style. There were paintings on the walls and tiny art sculptures here and there on display. On the floor was a very fine Persian carpet and a brightly colored quilt lay on the bed. There were silk fans from the Far East on a dressing table along with little bottles of perfume and an ivory handled hairbrush. A small table set next to the dressing table held a small stack of sheet music along with three jars of paint and a several paint brushes.

"Miss Chagal? Is that you?" Alfred took a tentative step into the room. "Miss Chagal?"

On the opposite side of the room there was a doorway with no door. Alfred heard running water. With the terrible feeling that he was intruding, Alfred stepped into the room and slipped over to the other door. He leaned into the other, small room and immediately felt his heart stop.

Herbert stood at a bathtub, wearing just a shirt that he'd forgotten to button and trousers that were entirely too tight to be quite proper, lazily worked the handle of a water pump to fill the large bathtub. Herbert's face broke into a broad grin the moment he saw Alfred.

Alfred paled.

Vampire!

"Excuse me, please!" Alfred turned to run, but froze in place when Herbert shouted out an excited,

"Stay!"

Alfred did stay. Life had taught him long ago, with painful lessons, that for the sake of his own safety, obedience was best. Despite knowing that Herbert was a monstrous vampire, he still froze.

Herbert glided to Alfred's side and threw a familiar arm over Alfred's shoulder. "I was hoping to run into you again; I wanted to talk," Herbert brightly said. "You know, father is very impressed with you. I think we should be friends. Don't you?"

Friends? He wanted to be friends? For just a moment, the fear that had taken hold of Alfred when Herbert put an arm around him vanished. The thought of having a friend was thrilling. What did one even do with a friend?

Then reality struck him like an iron rod across the forehead – Herbert couldn't really want to be Alfred's friend because Herbert was a noble and noble's weren't friends with people like Alfred. And Herbert was a vampire. That was important to remember, too. Panic put a hand around Alfred's throat and squeezed. The weight of Herbert's arm over his shoulders was very uncomfortable. He turned to run and choked out, "I have to go!"

Herbert caught Alfred around the waist. "You have to be nice to me."

Alfred was truly caught and amazed at Herbert's strength. He couldn't move a bit and, after just a moment of trying, he gave up. Herbert was big and strong and could very easily hurt Alfred. Besides, he couldn't just run away from the castle – he'd promised to find Sarah. He couldn't offend Herbert, but Herbert was touching and he was a vampire and Alfred didn't know what to do. So, Alfred stopped trying to get away and just stood there.

"You look pale, darling. Are you sick?"

"I'm not sick," Alfred quickly said.

"Oh, but yes you are. Why else should you tremble so?"

"No, I never tremble."

Herbert looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Yes, you are. I think you should sit. My bed's very comfortable." Herbert put both hands on Alfred's shoulders.

Something inside Alfred broke.

 _He was twelve-years-old on Whitechapel Street, kneeling in a dark alley, the knees of his trousers wet from a puddle of something that didn't smell at all like water._

 _A voice roughened by cigar smoke grumbled at little Alfie, "Open your mouth, boy."_

"Your eyelashes are like delicate threads of pure gold," Herbert purred at Alfred, pulling Alfred back to the present and out of the long ago memory.

He blinked and found that he was still in Herbert's bedroom, sitting on Herbert's bed with Herbert. Herbert gazed warmly at Alfred and Alfred, despite knowing that Herbert was a monster, felt profoundly thankful to have been taken out of that particular memory. So shaken by the memory he'd been trying not to think about for so long, Alfred looked away and found himself looking into a mirror on the dressing table. The mirror reflected only him and not Herbert who sat next to him. It was more nerve-wracking proof of what Herbert was… if only he could show that to the count and prove to him what danger he was in!

"Alfred, dear," Herbert's voice took Alfred's attention off the mirror and back to Herbert. "We're having a ball tonight. You simply must come. I know I said before that I didn't want you to come after the ball, but you're here now and the guests already know you're here so it's not like the situation can get any worse. Won't you be my guest?"

"I-I don't think…"

"But you MUST attend! It is the biggest gathering of the year. There will be music and dancing and candlelight; it will be so romantic. We'll dance all night!"

What a strange thing to say. It wasn't as if they could dance together at a ball… in front of other people. There would be a horrible scandal and it would be Herbert, the son of the count, who would suffer the most of it. Alfred was no one; he could just walk away and be completely forgotten, but Herbert's whole life would be affected. Well… his un-life.

To Alfred's distress, Herbert grabbed his hands and began to spin them around the room in an energetic romp. When Herbert groped Alfred's bottom during the dance, Alfred knew with terrifying clarity what Herbert wanted and he cursed himself for being so stupid for hoping that Herbert would actually want to be his friend.

Then Herbert gave Alfred a dramatic spin and released him. While Alfred stumbled to get his balance, Herbert snatched the little poetry book from him. "Poetry?" Herbert smirked over his shoulder at Alfred. "I knew it! I could tell at once – you're in love!" He strode back to Alfred and tossed the book to him. "I can hear your heart going 'pitter-pat, pitter-pat' in your chest. Well, I have a secret, too. I'm in love, too. I'm in love with you!"

Alfred's stomach turned. "But… But I don't…"

Herbert stepped behind Alfred and rested his hands on Alfred's shoulders.

Alfred stopped breathing. Having someone standing behind him… touching him… he couldn't breathe. His heart was racing painfully fast and felt like it was slamming against his ribs. Herbert put a hand on Alfred's head and gently pulled Alfred's head to the side. From the corner of his eye, Alfred saw Herbert leaning forward, undoubtedly to kiss his throat or bite it.

Alfred panicked.

He reached over his shoulder and shoved the poetry book right at Herbert's face. He heard Herbert cry out and release his shoulders and the moment he did, Alfred ran. He had no idea where he was running to, but just ran to get away from Herbert because he didn't want any kisses or bites or dancing or anything else! He ended up back in the library and was comforted, for a moment, to find himself surrounded by walls of books. But then he turned and Herbert was in the doorway.

"And you said you didn't like games!" Herbert asked, grinning. "You should have said you wanted to play Catch-Me-if-You Can."

With a surge of terror, Alfred ran for the door, but Herbert was too close.

With terrible ease, Herbert caught Alfred with both arms and wrapped him in a bear hug as he and Alfred fell to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Alfred tried to get to his feet, but Herbert grabbed his ankle and kept him down on the floor. Herbert crawled onto Alfred and with his big body pressed down on Alfred, he took hold of Alfred's wrists which he very easily moved to pin on the floor at Alfred's sides.

Alfred screamed once for help and, knowing he was completely powerless and overwhelmed at the whole situation, he did the only thing he could do – he burst into tears.

Herbert did nothing. Then he touched Alfred's cheek. Alfred turned his head away and kept up his messy sobbing.

"Sweetheart?" Herbert sat up. "What's wrong? Goodness! I'm not going to kill you. You don't have to cry. Please, stop."

Alfred couldn't stop. He was so scared. His mind kept switching between seeing Herbert leaning over him and the memory of the man from long ago. Alfred squeezed his eyes closed, but couldn't stop seeing that other large man, his ruddy face twisted with a sickening mix of glee and lust and violence. Alfred could dimly hear that man's voice yelling at him, spitting swears, and saying dirty, ugly things to him. Calling him bad names… Bad Alfred! Bad!

"I'm off," Herbert's distressed voice made its way through Alfred's confusingly real memories and was like a rope pulling Alfred back to reality and out of the past. "I'm not sitting on you. You can stop crying."

It was true. Alfred opened his swollen, sore eyes and found that he was still on his back on the floor, but Herbert had moved off him and was standing by the door. Wringing his hands and frowning with unhappiness, Herbert was a far cry from the beast he was only moments ago.

Herbert suddenly shouted out, "Father! Come, quick!"

Alfred gasped, horrified. He didn't want to be told on! He'd been told on before, back when he hadn't been brave enough to do what he was told and the client got angry. It hadn't ended well for Alfred and he just couldn't go through that, again. "No!" he desperately cried. Completely irrational at that point, terrified at the idea of the count learning that Alfred was being so bad completely overwhelmed all his other fears. He forgot, just for a moment, that Herbert was a vampire. If the count thought Alfred was bad, he wouldn't be allowed to stay in the village and he'd die in the wilderness, frozen and alone and forgotten.

Alfred rolled onto his hands and knees and looked up at Herbert with blurry, teary eyes. "Don't call him! Don't tell! I'll be good. I promise, I promise! I swear I'll be good! Don't tell on me. I can do this!" He scrambled over to Herbert and sat on his knees at Herbert's feet. At that time, he'd have done anything to stop Herbert from telling the count he was bad. Alfred reached up and started fumbling with the buttons on Herbert's trousers.

Herbert, shocked out of his wits by the sudden change in Alfred's behavior, squeaked, "H-hey! What are you doing?" He grabbed the waist of his trousers to keep them up.

Alfred hardly heard what Herbert said. It was all too overwhelming - his terrible memories, being pulled to the ground, fangs, and the threat of the count coming was simply too much and seemed to pile on top of him until he felt like he couldn't breathe.

With tears of fear running down his face and shaking hands, Alfred kept yanking on Herbert's trousers. "I can do this. I know how. He taught me. I can do it." His stomach churned violently. He was going to be sick. He gave another tug and Herbert's trousers fell down.

Of course, Count Von Krolock chose that moment, with Alfred sobbing on the floor and Herbert all disheveled and confused with his trousers around his ankles, to walk in. "Herbert, I…" His words trailed away. He looked at the teary Alfred, then at Herbert. He looked back at Alfred and frowned. Then he looked at Herbert and demanded, "Herbert! What did you do?"

"Nothing! I mean, I tried, but then he started crying and he wouldn't stop and I didn't hurt him!" He waved his hands at Alfred. "And now he just… I don't know… I didn't do this!"

Count Von Krolock rolled his eyes. "Herbert, pull up your trousers and go take a walk."

"What?" Herbert pointed at Alfred, "But I didn't…!"

"Don't argue with me."

"But…"

"Angus!"

At the count's shout, another man walked into the room. He was almost as short as Alfred, but was thickly muscled. He had short, curly black hair and dark eyes that were bright enough that they almost shone in the light of the candles. "Yes, father?"

"Take your little brother for a walk."

"Yes, father." The dark haired man, Angus, briskly walked into the room and said to Herbert, "Come along, then."

"But," Herbert bent over to pull his trousers up and held them up with both hands. "But he's scared… of me! I'm not scary!"

Angus snorted. "Anyone would get scared seeing you without your trousers."

Herbert declared, in a hurt voice, "Oh, shut up!"

With a hand on Herbert's arm, Angus pulled him out of the room. "Honestly, Bertie, you need to play a little easier. I may just keep this one if you can't be nice."

"I'm very nice. And what would YOU do with him?"

"With those puppy-dog eyes? I'd bring him to town and let him lure in the ladies for me. Women adore puppies. What else would I do with him?" Their conversation faded after that as Angus closed the door behind them.

Alone with Count Von Krolock in the peace of the library, Alfred's terror began to settle and he felt remarkably foolish. Surely, there had to have been a better way to handle the whole situation rather than breaking down into tears like a toddler. But, faced with an enthusiastic vampire nobleman, Alfred couldn't think of any better way to react.

Alfred cringed when the count turned to face him. He was a very big man, not especially tall, but broad, and it didn't help Alfred's courage that he was sitting on the floor and had and eye-level view of the count's knees. Alfred lowered his face, waiting for the inevitable. He would be told to get out, to leave the castle and village or the count would simply beat him. There was no one with any authority to stop him, after all, and he would naturally value his son over someone like Alfred.

Count Von Krolock clasped his hands together in front of him as he studied Alfred. Finally, he said, "Alfred, can you tell me what this fuss is about and why you're sitting on the floor? Are you hurt?"

His head still hurt from where he'd hit it the previous day. His eyes were sore and itchy from crying. He felt bruised and battered from rolling around on the floor with Herbert. He was tired, so bloody tired. But it wasn't important. Wretchedly, Alfred shook his head. "No. I'm alright. He just… surprised me." Cautiously, Alfred peeked up at the count. "Are you mad at me?"

"No. I'm not mad; Herbert behaved in an ungentlemanly manner and he will be disciplined, though I am confident that he was merely excited and didn't mean you any harm." Then he held out a hand. "Come along, on your feet." He waited patiently until Alfred stood before he led Alfred over to Herbert's bed and motioned for him to sit. "Now, let's talk about this calmly. I don't find young men crying on my floors very often; it's rather distressing."

"But I didn't listen to your son and there was a lot of noise and you burned up my writing and you sure looked angry." Alfred wiped his face dry with the sleeve of his shirt. As he started to calm down, he felt completely ridiculous. Imagine – someone his age sitting on the floor crying for almost no reason at all!

"I was angry about the book, but not at you for writing. I told you to write what you remembered seeing in the book, if you'll remember. I have sent someone to look for that Doctor Alibori that the book might be recovered before it falls into the wrong hands. I'm more concerned about what happened here." The count reached out, slowly enough that it didn't frighten Alfred into thinking the count would strike him, and very carefully use his thumb to wipe away a tear on Alfred's cheek. Those terrible long, claw-like fingernails came perilously close to Alfred's eye, but the count behaved in such a gentle manner that Alfred wasn't a bit afraid the count would hurt him. "I'm afraid Herbert was very excited to have you visit. I didn't expect him to try to seduce you so quickly, though. He's usually much more reserved."

Alfred's heart sunk; the count knew what Herbert wanted to do to Alfred and didn't mind. Alfred's gut churned. He took a deep breath and looked down at his knees to steady his nerves. "Is that what I have to do?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do I have to let Herbert … ah… touch me? If you don't let me stay in your village, I'll die in the mountains, just like Professor Abronsius - I know I will. Please, let me stay in the village. I'll do whatever you tell me to do. If you tell me to, I'll let Herbert do what he wants to do and I won't fight or whine about it. I can be very good, he surprised me just now and everything happened so fast and I got scared, but it won't happen, again, I promise. I'll do whatever you tell me to do."

Count Von Krolock was quiet and didn't speak until Alfred finally looked at him. Oh, what he saw! Alfred cringed away from the fury on Count Von Krolock's face. "I'm sorry!"

"No." The count calmed himself and when there wasn't a trace of anger on his face, he finally spoke, again. "It troubles me that you think my hospitality comes at such a cost. To have anyone think I would demand they do such a thing unwillingly…"

"I didn't mean any insult," though clearly the count thought something Alfred said was insulting. Alfred couldn't guess why. "I just don't want you to send me away. Really, I'll do anything you want if you let me stay in the village, even if just for the winter. I can work very hard and I won't be a bother to anyone. When spring comes I can follow the train tracks to another town. And it's not that I'm unwilling, I will do it, but… but…"

"But what?" The count gave Alfred's wrist a little squeeze. "I expect the truth. A well-mannered young man shouldn't lie."

Alfred swallowed, hard. He didn't want to talk about it. But if the count let him stay he had to do what he was told. "I don't like it." Alfred hugged himself and looked down at his shoes. "I don't want to do…. that stuff."

"Why not?"

Wide-eyed at such a foolish question, Alfred couldn't help but burst out, "Why would I? It's messy and cold and it hurts and… and it's scary!" Alfred cringed at how childish he sounded.

"Oh, my dear boy." Count Von Krolock sounded dreadfully sad. He put a strong arm over Alfred's shoulder and held him tightly against his side. "What happened to you?"

"I was hungry." Alfred hadn't really meant to say it, but the count was being so kind and so very gentle that the truth slipped out. "I was twelve. Mama just died and," Alfred glanced cautiously at the count from the corner of his eye. "I hadn't eaten in days. I didn't know what else to do."

"Hunger can make people do things they don't want to do."

Something in the count's tone, how he passed no judgment, but merely stated a fact, encouraged Alfred to keep speaking. "Back in England, the place where I lived… well, you see there were a lot of prostitutes. Mama didn't like doing it, but papa died before I was born and she didn't have any family to help us. It was a way to feed us and pay rent. When she got sick and died, I was alone. She'd done it so I thought it couldn't be very horrible. And there was a man who promised to give me some money if I…" Alfred's voice trailed away. He just couldn't say THAT to the count! "I didn't like it. But, I got the money and I got some food, so… it worked. Then there was a woman and I thought that wouldn't be so bad, but she said bad things and hit me and called me nasty names… it was bad. Very bad."

"I'm so sorry you went through all that, but you are safe from that sort of thing here." Then he paused before he said, "I think I must be more forthright with you, young man. When Herbert took such a shine to you in the village, I had hoped to keep you safely there until my guests left, but that was not to be. You are here and that means that certain things are inevitable, now. I wasn't planning to have you find out until the ball, as I had hoped that a surprise might be less traumatic rather than letting you dwell over what would happen, but with what you've just told me, I think you need a little trust, instead. So, I will tell you now and hope that you will learn to trust my word – I will never lie to you." He gave Alfred's wrist another little squeeze. Then, to Alfred's shock, the count opened his mouth and revealed a set of long, terrible fangs.

Alfred jerked away, but the count didn't release his wrist so he couldn't go far. "You – you're a vampire, too."

"I am. I did believe you about Herbert; he is my child, after all."

Alfred tried to run, but Count Von Krolock had a firm grip on his wrist and didn't let go.

"Gently," the count said in a soothing voice as he pulled Alfred back down to sit next to him. "I'm not about to attack you. You're perfectly safe. Tonight, I am hosting a ball. I'm sure Herbert's mentioned it."

"He said he wants to dance with me."

"He does enjoy dancing. You will be at the ball, but I'm sorry to say you won't enjoy it much. You will be an offering to my guests. They will drink your blood." It was all said so bluntly that it took Alfred a moment before he started to shake his head. The count nodded sympathetically. "I know you don't like the idea of it, such an uncomfortable situation to be in. I had hoped to spare you the trouble, that's why I didn't invite you here when we met in the village. I was planning to open up a few bottles of blood from my emergency reserves for my guests, but as they know you're here they would see bottled blood as an insult." He gave a little shrug. "I do need to provide them with a meal; it's traditional."

Alfred began to shake.

"Don't take it so hard," the count gave Alfred a kindly smile which was more than a little odd with those awful fangs. "You're human and vampires feed off humans – it's natural. But I won't let anyone kill you. You won't like what will happen at the ball, but you won't die tonight. You have my word of honor on that."

Alfred felt the whole world spin around him. "But I… I just wanted to get Miss Chagal back to her mother. I was only trying to help."

"Miss Chagal will be at the ball; you may see her then." The count smiled fondly at him and reached up to ruffle Alfred's hair. "You are such a nice young man. I will be very pleased to have you in my family should all work out as I hope."

 **To be continued…**


	5. The Ball

**Chapter 5: The Ball**

 **Herbert-**

Herbert had never been so ashamed in his whole life… or after.

"Don't take it so hard." Angus walked next to Herbert, easily pulling him along. "He's young, younger than you were when father found you and I remember how skittish you were back then. I'm sure he'll see your good qualities if you can keep your hands to yourself for a little while."

"I scared him. He was crying. Crying! I have never made anyone cry in my life!"

"What about that duke? The one with the crooked nose?"

"He deserved it." Herbert sniffed disdainfully at the memory. "He reeked of onions and kept trying to grab father's bottom." Herbert shuddered. "That's just… eww."

"Ever tell father that you defended his honor?"

"Of course not; he'd only laugh."

Herbert had to look down to meet Angus' eyes, but that didn't change the fact that he'd always been just a bit intimidated by his big brother. Angus was short and square, a bear of man with black curls that Herbert had always envied and hands that could palm a cannonball. He had a hand wrapped around Herbert's bicep as they strode down the corridor. Due to Angus' short statue, Herbert had to walk slowly so he would walk with Angus. He knew from experience that Angus wouldn't allow Herbert to race ahead or run away.

When Herbert had looked over his shoulder in the direction they'd come from Angus barked a laugh. "Someone's in love. I can hear your heart – pitter-pat, pitter-pat."

If Herbert could have, he would have blushed. "Oh, be quiet! Where are we going?"

"Father said to take you for a walk, so I'm taking you for a walk. What did you do that little bunny? What a mess he was!"

"I was only playing. He's the one who walked in on me when I was getting ready for a bath! I thought he might be playing shy. Turns out he wasn't playing at all." Herbert let out a pitiful sigh. "And now I've gone and scarred him for life."

Angus rolled his eyes. "Even if he doesn't forgive you, you'll find another pretty face soon enough. It's your turn out, next. Go to Verona and see what sort of luck that place brings you. It worked for Romeo and Juliet."

"They both died."

Angus flashed a bright smile. "Is that a problem?"

"Well… no. I suppose… no! I'm not going to Verona!" Herbert tried to jerk his arm away from Angus, but Angus was older by a couple of hundred years and, therefore, was much stronger and kept his firm grip on Herbert's arm. Giving up on escaping and running back to Alfred, Herbert allowed himself to be led down the corridor. "You don't understand. Alfred is different."

"Must be. I never saw you chasing anyone so hard," Angus fondly beamed at Herbert. "Come on and tell me of your little prince while you get ready for the ball."

"Aren't you going to get ready?" Herbert eyed Angus's plain, loose fitting clothes. "Father won't let you attend looking like that."

"Oh, my heart bleeds. No, father's been very kind and given me a mission so I won't have to attend. While you're entertaining guests, I'm to go hunting." He walked a little prouder when he said it and Herbert did his best not to laugh at his brother. Angus was always so proud to carry out missions for their father whether it was an important diplomatic errand, which he wasn't terribly good at, or a jaunt to the nearest city for ink, or when he wanted someone dead; Angus was very good at that sort of mission. "He needs some old thief found."

Herbert frowned. "That one who hurt Alfred? I want to go."

"You're not going."

"But…"

"No changing my mind. If father had wanted you to go out, he'd have told you to. He wants you at the ball."

"That old professor is perfectly dreadful. Anyone who could hurt someone like Alfred is horrible."

Angus nodded. "I'm sure he is, but it's not your concern. He'll be dead the moment I get my hands on him, put your money on that. You leave the old man to me." They arrived at Herbert's rooms, then, and Angus released Herbert's arm only when the door was closed behind them. "And if you're a very good boy, I may give you a gift for tonight."

Herbert's eyes brightened. "A present? What?" Angus always found the most interesting presents to bring home. "Did you bring father something? Did he tell you we're to have a sister? A young girl from the village; she'll need a gift, too, or she'll feel left out."

Angus flopped down on Herbert's bed and rolled his shoulders. "Yes, I have a gift for father and, no, I won't tell you what – it's a surprise for him. No, I didn't know father was planning for more children, I haven't been home for seven months and when I did get home, father sent me out at once to start looking for that old thief. He hasn't had time to tell me anything. And I'll get her something when I find a minute." He tilted his head back a bit and stared up at the ceiling. "You take one more step to the door and I'll tan your backside."

His feet froze, Herbert scowled at Angus. Sulking, he stomped to the bed and sat next to Angus. "You are a rat."

"Oh, I just want to give father a few minutes to talk to the puppy. I suppose you don't want a gift from a rat, then."

Stubbornly, Herbert put his nose in the air. "I do not!"

"What a shame." From his coat pocket, Angus pulled a little packet wrapped in brown paper. "Now what shall I do with this?"

Tempted, Herbert turned his head just a little to glimpse the wrapped package.

Angus continued, "Father won't want it. Maybe I'll go give it away down at the village. Someone must want this fine," Angus pulled the string on the package loose on the package and started to pull the paper away to reveal what was inside. "Elegant Venetian lace."

Herbert's eyes went wide. He reached over and snatched the lace from Angus' lax hand. "Ah! It's beautiful!" He put the lace, so delicate and intricately made, to his wrist, imagining how it would look with his new jacket.

"You haven't had your bath, yet, have you?"

"Hmm?" Herbert didn't both to look at Angus, he was so pleased with the lace. "No, my Alfred walked in just before I got in." He paused, and then said, "If he'd walked in a minute later, I'd have been in the water. Maybe then he'd have…"

"He'd have run away screaming and had nightmares for a month," Angus laughed. He made a face. "Seeing you bare as a newborn babe? Ugg! I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Bertie, but you've got knobby knees."

"I do not!"

"You do. You've also got that funny birthmark on your…"

"Shut up!" Herbert launched himself at Angus, but, of course, it was useless.

Angus easily caught Herbert around the waist and twisted in just the right way that he got Herbert on the bed on his stomach and then sat on Herbert's back. "Bertie, my dear little brother, you are as cute as ever!" With a laugh of delight, Angus grabbed one of Herbert's ankles and brought the barefoot up within easy reach. "Are you still ticklish?"

"Don't you dare!"

Angus did dare and savagely attacked Herbert's vulnerable foot with dastardly tickling. And Herbert helplessly broke into shrieks of laughter. He kicked and squirmed and pounded on the bed with his fists until, with a lucky twist, he reached back and managed to grab Angus by the hair and yank hard enough to pull Angus off him. They wrestled for a bit, Herbert baring his fangs and trying to get a bite on Angus, while Angus kept laughing, thoroughly enjoying the scuffle. It ended when Angus ended it. He wrapped Herbert in a tight bear-hug and cuddled him. "My sweet little brother!" Then kissed him on the cheek.

"Let me go!"

"But you're so cute. Just like a little kitten."

Herbert gave up and went lax in Angus' arms. "I hate you."

It made Angus laugh louder until he, finally, let go of Herbert. "Bertie, you keep an eye on father, won't you? I don't like having all these guests around. He's just too kind-hearted."

"Of course." They both knew that their father needed to be looked after. He had such a sensitive, romantic soul that they feared someone would end up taking advantage of him. "Where are you off to? Why does father want that old man dead?"

Angus grew quiet. He leaned back a little and looked up at the ceiling. "Your puppy had a book, it seems. Father told me that he had the laddie write out some of the words he'd seen in the book and he knew what it was, at once. He called it the 'Mors Libre'. Now, what kind of a name is that?"

"Latin," Herbert answered, surprised. "It means 'Death Book'. Now what would my Alfred be doing with something like that? What's so important about it that has father worked up?"

Angus shrugged. "He didn't give me much time to ask questions. Just gave me orders to find it and bring it back. Speaking of which, father is likely done talking to the puppy so I ought to be off. You have fun at the party and keep an eye on your puppy and father." He ruffled Herbert's hair and jumped out of the way before Herbert could hit him. "Brush your hair; you look like you've been through a wind-storm!" He left, laughing.

Herbert did dress and tidy himself up quite a bit. He put on his best outfit, fixed his hair, put a touch of rouge on his cheeks, and dug through his jewelry box and picked out three rings and a very nice pendant on a silver chain to wear. It was one of the few times he'd regretted that he couldn't use a mirror to check his reflection; he was sure he looked absolutely perfect. Alfred would be impressed, he was sure.

That done, and with barely more than an hour to go before the ball, Herbert went to his dresser where one of the drawers was permanently kept open. A look inside showed a mound of fabric – one of Herbert's old shirts – but nothing else. Herbert frowned and called out, "Poppy? Where are you, Poppy?" He searched the whole room, but she wasn't there. She wasn't under the bed or in the wardrobe, wasn't hiding in the rarely used bed linens, under the pillows, or climbing the long curtains. "Poppy?" He left the room and began to search the halls and nearby rooms.

After a short time with no success finding her, he started to get worried. She never just disappeared. He hunted high and low for her and, as the time of the ball grew nearer, he grew more desperate. What if one of the guests had snacked on her? What if she'd fallen somewhere and hurt herself? Though he was dressed and primped for the ball and he knew his father would be annoyed if he wasn't there promptly, Herbert kept up his search.

Then, he saw Alfred. In the hall, Alfred stood on his toes and reached up high over his head to a long disused torch holder. "Don't be scared," Alfred cooed, gently. "It's alright. Just a little closer. You can't stay up there. Gosh, what are you?" He stretched, tipping unsteadily on the tips of his toes. "Ouch! Don't bite! Come on a little closer… there!" Alfred lowered himself down to the ground with his hands held close to his chest and fondly said, "Goodness, you are an ugly little thing."

The thin, hair-less tail draped over Alfred's cupped hands let Herbert breathe a sigh of a relief as he knew where Poppy was.

Alfred leaned his back against the wall and said, still staring down at Poppy. "Oh… what am I going to do? I can't find Miss Chagal and I promised to get her home. I can't just run away."

"You'll come to the ball." Herbert made himself known and inwardly cringed when Alfred's eyes went wide and he looked like he might run. Of course, he should run from Herbert. Herbert had been entirely too forward. "I AM sorry. I shouldn't have behaved like that. I didn't think I'd upset you so much with the chasing." When Alfred didn't reply or run, Herbert awkwardly rubbed the back of one leg with the opposite foot. It wasn't a pleasant feeling – he was never awkward. He'd always known exactly what to say and do in any social situation, but he'd never tried and failed to impress someone like Alfred. He couldn't think of a thing to say. His mind had gone almost entirely blank. Finally, he said, "Her name is Poppy."

"Eh?"

Herbert gestured to the little creature Alfred cuddled to his chest. "My squirrel - her name is Poppy."

Poppy chose at that moment to peek over the top of Alfred's hands. She was entirely hairless and her tail that should have been long and fluffy, was nothing but a thin whip. Herbert had no idea why she had no hair, but she'd been like that ever since he'd found her. She really was quite a horrid looking beast.

"I thought she might be some sort of rat," Alfred muttered. "She looked cold. It's pretty cold in here."

Herbert wouldn't know. He hadn't felt hot or cold since being brought across so many years ago. So they stood there in self-conscious silence. Alfred shifted nervously from foot-to-foot, as if he was ready to run at any moment. Herbert felt terrible about being the cause of that fear. But there was no help for it – it was done and, he knew, they'd run out of time.

Slowly, so as not to frighten Alfred a second time, Herbert reached out his hands. "May I have Poppy? She needs to be fed."

Alfred wouldn't look directly at Herbert, but he did obediently hold the naked little squirrel out. The minute Poppy realized Herbert was there, she leapt from Alfred's hands and into Herbert's. Quick as lightening, she scurried up one of Herbert's arms and perched herself on his shoulder, half-hidden in his long hair where she affectionately nuzzled his ear.

He looked back at Alfred just in time for Alfred to turn on his heel and bolt down the hall. He was gone in an instant and Herbert just stood there and stared after him.

"That was very nice of you to apologize," Count Von Krolock was suddenly behind Herbert. He put a hand on Herbert's arm. "Please, don't expect him to forgive you any time soon. Tonight will be hard for him."

"Shouldn't you tell him why this is happening to him? He's going to blame you and it's not your fault. There's no reason for him to think we're BOTH monsters."

Count Von Krolock gave Herbert a sad smile. "Does it make a difference why? The bare fact is that I am going to allow him to be fed upon. It will terrify him. The reason doesn't matter." The count gave Herbert's arm a gentle squeeze for comfort. "Has Angus gone?"

"A little while ago," Herbert nodded. "Is that book so bad?"

"Worse than you can imagine. Go put your pet away; the ball is set to begin. I'll fetch our Alfred."

 **Alfred-**

Alfred had given up hope of finding Miss Chagal before the ball. He'd looked everywhere he could, in every room, but there was no sign of her. He didn't quite know what to think of Herbert's apology but he was very grateful that Herbert hadn't pounced on him, again, when they'd met in the hall. He'd still run from Herbert, but Alfred considered that a perfectly reasonable reaction, given the circumstances.

After he was out of sight of Herbert and as sure he wasn't being chased, Alfred stopped running and panted for breath. He looked down the hall he'd just run down, half-fearing that Herbert would come barreling after him.

A hand on the shoulder made Alfred start with a yelp. He whipped around to find the count standing behind him. His hand stayed firmly on Alfred's shoulder.

"It's time for the ball, Alfred," Count Von Krolock said, softly. "Come along."

With the count's iron grip on Alfred's shoulder, he really had no choice and was led by Count Von Krolock to the ballroom. Every step made Alfred's heart beat faster, but he could think of no way out of it.

Once at the ballroom, filled with people dressed in clothing of various time periods, the count kept his hand on Alfred and went to stand at the foot of tall stairway while he spoke to his guests, welcoming them to his home and wishing them a pleasant evening. The count then leaned over and quietly told Alfred, "Before you try to escape, please remember that the girl you are looking for will be here tonight and you will be caught before you leave the castle. It will be much easier for you if you stay." He left Alfred, then, and Alfred found himself hiding in a corner of the huge room as the vampires danced around him. Barely a few moments passed before a young girl walked into the ballroom. She was richly dressed in a dark red gown with brown curls piled on her head in a fashionable style.

Miss Chagal.

He knew that had to be Miss Chagal; she bore such a strong resemblance to her mother. She sure didn't look like she was in any distress. She glided across the ballroom floor with every greedy eye focused on her while she, in turn, had eyes only for Count Von Krolock. And the count bit her. It all happened very quickly and, despite the delicate trail of blood that dripped down her throat, Miss Chagal didn't seem at all unhappy with what had happened. In fact, she started dancing with the count the minute it was all over.

And then, some person caught Alfred's arm and he was swung into the dance, too.

He didn't know the steps of the dance, but that didn't bother his partners at all. He was awkward and stumbled as he tried to keep step with the graceful people around him. During the dance, partners switched every now and again and Alfred was passed from person to person, each one smiling in a funny way that made Alfred terribly uncomfortable. All of a sudden, Alfred found himself in Herbert's arms.

Herbert wasn't smiling.

The moment his arms wrapped around Alfred, they both froze. He looked solemnly down at Alfred and held him so they were chest to chest. It was far too intimate.

"Alfred, dearest," Herbert said, in a voice that seemed too serious. "It's time."

Alfred felt himself go cold. "Time?"

"Yes." Herbert looked somewhere over Alfred's shoulder. "Father's ready for you, now."

Alfred saw Count Von Krolock, then. The count took Miss Chagal to the ballroom's only window. Miss Chagal followed docilely with a happy, vacant smile. Blood from the vampire's bite that had changed her into one of them was still wet on her neck. Count Von Krolock pointed at the stars and Miss Chagal dazedly looked where he indicated and stood there, happily smiling at the stars, when he turned away from her and met Alfred's eyes. Miss Chagal didn't even notice when Count Von Krolock walked away from her. He went to one side of the room to a divan and sat regally upon it, spreading his cloak around him. He met Alfred's eyes, again, and smiled, tenderly.

A light tug made Alfred looked back up at Herbert. Herbert pulled him, again. He was so strong that Alfred had no choice but to follow along where he was led, though he did try to pull away.

"You're going to sit with father for a little while," Herbert explained, very calmly, while he kept pulling Alfred. "The guests are a little hungry."

"No. Please, no." Alfred could hardly breathe. His throat felt like it was closing up.

"It's safer for you if we do this when Father and I can control the situation. Don't worry, you won't be alone. I won't leave you for even a moment. But the guests were promised a taste." Unstoppably, Herbert drew Alfred closer and closer to Count Von Krolock. "Father will keep you safe and hold you and it will only last a few minutes."

Alfred was acutely aware that the ball had stopped. Everyone was watching him. He heard hissing and growling, as if he were surrounded by wild animals.

"No!" Herbert put a hand on the side of Alfred's face and made Alfred look up at him. "Don't look at them, darling – it will only upset you. Look at me. I promise to keep you safe; you have my word of honor. Come along."

But Alfred kept fighting. He pulled against Herbert. "Please, please. I… I don't… please." He couldn't organize his thoughts enough to make any sense.

Herbert's hand stroked his cheek, but he never stopped his slow, implacable move towards the count. "You're safe. Really. See? Here's father and he won't let anything terrible happen to you." As he spoke, Herbert stopped walking and moved to stand behind Alfred while keeping his strong hands on Alfred's shoulders to hold him in place.

Alfred was only inches away from the count. There were hungry vampires all around. Herbert stood at his back, immovable as a wall. Alfred knew that he was utterly trapped – there was no escape. Alfred's breath was coming harder and faster and his head felt light with growing terror.

Count Von Krolock gave Alfred a gentle smile. "This will be over shortly. Try to stay calm; you are protected. Let's get you ready. Herbert." He looked behind Alfred, at Herbert, and nodded.

A tug on his coat made Alfred jump. He looked back at Herbert and could do nothing more than stand there dumbly while Herbert took his red coat off and unfastened his braces. When Herbert reached around Alfred's middle and started to unfasten the buttons on his shirt, Alfred panicked. He didn't want to be undressed in front of everyone! He desperately grabbed the front of his shirt to hold it closed.

"Easy, now." Count Von Krolock was standing in front of Alfred and took Alfred's face in his hands. "Easy. If you are bitten through your clothes, a bit of cloth might get into the wound and cause an infection. We don't want that."

"But," Alfred swallowed, hard. "But everyone will see me. They'll stare."

"Ah," Count Von Krolock nodded with understanding. "You're shy. Well, I can assure you with complete honesty, no one in this room, except Herbert, is interested in anything but your blood. They won't stare at your bare skin."

Herbert had Alfred's shirt off in the blink of an eye.

Bare-chested in front of a crowd of strangers… Alfred cringed, wrapping his arms around himself in a feeble attempt at protection, despite the count's promise. He was cold and scared and he wanted to curl up and hide, but Count Von Krolock still held his face.

When Herbert's hands went to the waistband of Alfred's trousers, it was just too much. Alfred cried out with a wail of, "No! No! Stop it!" While one hand grabbed hold of his trousers to keep them up, he flailed back behind him with the other hand, though he knew his flapping hand wouldn't stop Herbert.

Except… it did. Herbert released him.

"Father?" Herbert said, hesitantly. "His modesty? Please?"

"Understandable." The count gave Alfred and indulgent smile. "You may keep your trousers, Alfred."

Alfred's relief was so great that he had a terrible urge to thank the count for his kindness.

"There now, we're ready." The count took hold of Alfred's hands. He stepped away from Alfred and sat on the divan. "Kneel, Alfred."

He didn't want to. Alfred really didn't want to. But Herbert was pressing down on his shoulders and the count was pulling on his hands and before he knew it, he was on his knees at the count's feet. The vampires loomed over him. Alfred didn't realize he was crying until the count used his long, cool fingers to wipe away the tears on his cheeks.

"Don't fret, my boy." The count put a hand tenderly on Alfred's hair and patted him, like one would a dog, and looked him directly in the eyes. "You are safe. You are protected. Look at me, that's right. So good, so obedient. Now, this IS going to happen, but I will give you a choice: would you like to be awake or asleep while it happens? I can put you to sleep very easily and wake you when it is over. You'll never remember any of it."

The whole thing was a nightmare and Alfred could hardly think, but the notion of being asleep and unaware of what was being done to his body… "No! No, please. Let me stay awake." He wouldn't have any control, regardless, but at least he would know what had happened to him.

The count nodded. "As you wish. And the pain? Would you like me to shield you from the pain?"

Swallowing hard, Alfred nodded. He really didn't like being hurt.

"Very well. Look at me." His eyes were intense and, when Alfred did as he was told, for the briefest of moments, Alfred felt swamped by something he really didn't understand. "You will feel no pain from the biting. There is no pain." A moment passed before the Count Von Krolock patted Alfred's cheek. "Now, that's done. You won't feel any pain. You just put your head down and it will be over before you know it." With a hand on the back of Alfred's neck, Count Von Krolock pulled Alfred forward and down until Alfred's head was resting on the count's lap. It was unnervingly intimate. "This is what will happen – my guests will have a taste of you. Just a taste. Herbert will watch them to ensure that they don't take more than you can give." As he spoke, the count kept patting Alfred's hair and his voice was deep and soothing. None of it stopped Alfred's terrified tears. "Herbert, would you like a taste?"

There was a hesitation before Herbert said, "No, thank you, father."

It shocked Alfred to hear Herbert refuse, he couldn't guess why Herbert didn't take advantage when Alfred was so helpless, but there was no time to think about it. All at once, it began. The vampires closed around Alfred and began to feed.

It was terrible – little knives slicing him open and strange lips mouthing at his skin. They were at his arms and back and his throat and his sides. His trouser legs were pushed up and mouths were at his lower legs and ankles. His shoes and socks were pulled off to give them access to his feet. Over and over they bit… but no pain. Count Von Krolock hadn't lied. Alfred could feel every bite, but it didn't hurt. It was terrifying, but not actually painful.

Alfred cried and struggled, but it was no use at all. He was well and truly trapped. The only comfort he had was to press his face into the count's lap. He took hold of the count's cloak in both hands and squeezed as hard as he could - dubious anchors in his panic.

Someone roughly grabbed one of Alfred's hands and yanked it away from the count's cloak. The loss of that meager thread of security was too much.

"No! No! No!" Alfred brought his head up and yanked so ferociously to free his hand that he might have dislocated his shoulder if Herbert weren't so very suddenly there and ripped the other vampire away from Alfred.

Herbert viciously slammed the other into the stone floor, and then threw him across the room where he crashed so violently into the wall that bits of stone fell on him where he crumpled onto the floor and stayed there, unconscious.

"Thank you, Herbert." Count Von Krolock took Alfred's free hand and held it gently. "Our Alfred is allowed his comfort." He brought Alfred's hand back to his cloak and waited patiently until Alfred grabbed it, again, before he pressed Alfred's head back onto his lap. "You're doing so well, my boy. I'm very pleased with how brave you're being. It's just a little longer, just a few more minutes."

It started, again.

Alfred was starting to get dizzy. His yelling and crying had devolved into nothing more than pitiful weeping.

A hand ran over Alfred's bottom and down over his thigh before the hand slipped back up and crept insidiously between his legs.

"Herbert?" Alfred opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to see that Herbert was nowhere near him. Herbert was a good six feet away. Alfred called out, "Herbert! Herbert! Help!"

At once, Herbert saw the wandering hand. His fangs were out and he leapt over the whole crowd to get at the one molesting Alfred. That one was pulled away from Alfred, but Herbert was so enraged that he didn't stop at throwing this one into a wall. Rather, he hauled the protesting vampire to the open window where Miss Chagal, still entranced by the stars, stood. With surprising gentleness, Herbert took a moment to ease Miss Chagal out of the way before he threw the offender out of the window and listened while that one screamed her way to the ground far below where she landed with a thud.

Count Von Krolock severely said, "You were all warned about such low behavior. Another such action and I will have Herbert toss that one, too, out the window… after he tears their head from their neck."

By then, Alfred was so exhausted that he didn't need any encouragement at all to lay his head back down on the count's lap.

The world went dark.

When Alfred next opened his eyes, he was being pulled up onto the count's lap where he sat like a little child on his papa's lap. Alfred's vision swam for a minute, and then focused and he saw that the strangers had all gone and he was alone with the count and Herbert.

"You did so well, Alfred," The count praised before he kissed Alfred on the temple. "I know that was a very frightening experience, but you handled it very well. It won't happen, again. I will never again allow you to go through that. I think you need to rest, now. Herbert, is a room ready for our Alfred?"

"Yes, father." Herbert beamed at Alfred and began stroking his arm. "It has a lovely, warm bed and soft pillows. There's a fire. Maybe," he cast a questioning look at the count. "A hot bath might be a good idea?"

"It would be an excellent idea," the count agreed. He stood up, easily lifting Alfred as he did.

The walk from the ballroom to the bedroom they'd prepared for him was little more than a fuzzy blur for Alfred. Alfred didn't even remembering having a bath. He was put to bed by the count who covered him with a heavy, woolen blanket. Herbert sat at Alfred's side and held his hand. Alfred should have been upset – someone had taken his clothes and washed him when he was unaware - but he just didn't have any energy to be upset.

Alfred looked up at the count. "Miss Chagal?"

"She's quite safe and happily sleeping. You may see her, later," the count answered.

Alfred's eyes drifted closed. "Thank you, sir."

"You are very welcome. Sleep, now."

"Yes, sir." And Alfred fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

To be continued…


	6. Shadow

**Chapter 6: Shadow**

Doctor Alibori yanked on the reins of the horses that pulled the sleight. The horses stopped and he was able to stand up in the sleigh to look at the road before him. After he'd tracked Abronsius' servant down to a clearly abandoned castle and stolen the book from him, he'd rushed back to the nearby village and stolen a sleigh from the home of one of the sleeping villagers. He felt no guilt at all. The book belonged in the hands of a man strong enough to control it, not some servant not enough strong enough to fight for it, and the sleigh… well… it was obviously more important for him to get the book safely back to civilization than for some dirty little villagers to go traipsing around doing whatever it was that farmers did.

He looked down at the book in his arms. He hadn't put it down since taking it from the servant. The book was old with a cracked leather cover and worn binding and he couldn't help, for just a moment, simply staring down at the pages in front of him with triumph. He'd wanted it for so long and, in the end, he'd only had to follow Abronsius and take it.

While he couldn't say for certain what had happened to Abronsius after he and the servant had jumped from the train, after he'd managed to catch up with the servant who'd had the book and found him alone, he reasoned that Abronsius was no longer an issue to be worried about.

Now, safely on his way, he would use the book. There was no real reason, but he wanted to. He wanted to try some spell – any spell! He'd been itching to use the book but he'd had to rest in the village and didn't want to use the book where anyone might see it. But, alone and safe from prying eyes, he would use the book; he'd been waiting for years.

Fluent in Latin, Doctor Alibori read the book easily and found the spell he wished to use, a spell that would surely prevent anyone wishing to chase him. If the servant had survived his fall and thought to take back the book… then such a spell would surely put an end to him.

He spoke the words of the spell and, upon seeing what he'd brought into the world, laughed hysterically.

 **Angus-**

Angus was happy to get out of going to the ball. While he loved and respected his vampire father, he didn't appreciate social gatherings as well as his little brother did. Pretty Herbert who was so witty and charming, always with a clever joke and so very fond of dancing, was much better suited to entertaining than Angus was. Angus was perfectly happy to go hunting.

At the gates of the castle, Angus tightened his cloak around his throat. He inhaled the strong scent of pine from the evergreens that populated the mountains, and then went to a disturbed spot in the snow near the castle gates, where his father had told him that there had been a scuffle between Bertie's puppy and the old man who needed to be killed. As there hadn't been any snow since that little scuffle, the place was simple to find. The disturbed spot in the snow had very handy footprints near it. Clearly, one set of footprints belonged to Bertie's puppy and led into the castle. The second set of prints walked away. Those were the ones Angus needed to follow.

A grunted word from the side made Angus turn to look at Koukol. "Yes?"

"Careful, my lord. His Excellency fears that book."

"I know." He gave Koukol a friendly slap on the shoulder. "I think I'm strong enough to deal with an old human and chances are he won't know how to use it, anyway. Father frets over anything that might bring a threat to us. Whatever that book is, he won't have a chance to use it. You keep an eye on Bertie's little puppy, won't you? I think he might need a friendly ear when that lot is done with him."

Koukol nodded; of course he would, and then limped his way back into the castle.

Angus began his hunt with relish. The prey had a long head-start, but he was faster than a human and ran at great speed as he followed the clear trail. He ran through the sleeping village and then followed a sleigh's trail when it became obvious that the prey had taken one.

He had gone a good distance when something was suddenly in his way and he stopped.

There was a shadow standing in his path.

The shadow-thing was not a real shadow and it made Angus, who'd seen many curious things around the world, stare in horrified fascination. The shadow came from nothing. It stood, upright like a person, in front of Angus. There was no source that it could have come from. It didn't stretch from any strangely shaped tree or rock and it certain wasn't Angus' shadow. It looked vaguely like a man with two things that might have been arms and two things that might have been legs and a large, thick area that could have been a torso while on top of it all a bulging shape sat that seemed to be a head. But it was a shadow and, if Angus looked hard, he could see through it.

"What would you be? A spirit? An uneasy spirit haunting these woods? No. No, you can't be." He'd lived in these mountains for nearly three hundred years and had never seen the like of such a thing. People had died in the mountains, they were harsh and unforgiving to even the most careful, experienced travelers. Restless spirits might haunt the mountains, but he'd never seen anything like the thing that stood before him. It was a shadow, but it was REAL. "What are you?"

Angus knew fear. He had fought in his first battle at thirteen-years-old, standing at his uncle's side while the enemy's force approached. At fourteen, he'd stood at the side of the laird and blown on his bagpipe, crying its mournful sound through the din of battle with the crash of swords and the screams of the wounded and dying. As a man, he had been gravely wounded and lay dying on the battlefield when a man who was no man appeared beside him and offered eternal life. Yes, Angus had been afraid many times in his life. Nothing, however, no battle or supernatural mouth at his throat, had ever caused him such fear as the sight of that silent, unmoving shadow. But fear had never kept him from any battlefield and he would be twice damned before he let a mere shadow, no matter how unnatural, keep him from obeying his father.

He swallowed the fear coiled inside him and put his hand to his side where his broadsword - so outdated these days, according to Bertie – was sheathed at his side. He drew himself up to his not terribly impressive height and barked out, "Get gone, shade! I'll have none of you!"

He couldn't say he was very surprised that the shadow did nothing but stand in its place.

"I need none of this trouble," Angus grumbled. He began to walk to the side, intending to simply go around the whatever-it-was, but found that the thing moved with him. It matched his steps, precisely, though he noted it made no footprints in the snow as it moved, which was only to be expected, really. Angus stopped walking and the shadow stopped, too. He turned in the opposite direction and started walking that way, only to have the shadow follow him, again. "You think you'll block me, then?"

Unlike his father, Angus had no skill with magic. Unlike Herbert, he didn't have the correct mind-set to be able to work with the magic their father cast. He was simple, to put it politely. His biggest asset was his strength and, ever since he'd accept Count Von Krolock's offer to join his family, Angus' strength had magnified. So it was with that strength and his sword in hand, that Angus decided what he would need to do. If he couldn't go around the shadow-thing, then he would go through!

Angus drew his sword and, holding it with both hands, he started taking deep breaths and felt the fighting spirit rise to the surface. He loved it. The rush, the flurry of violence and how strangely free he felt in the middle of fighting. It had taken his father years to teach Angus to stop and think before fighting, to consider whether the battle was worth the effort – it was. It always was. He so loved fighting!

Nearly lost in the fog of battle-lust, Angus bared his fangs at the shadow-thing and let out an animalistic growl before he launched himself at the thing.

But the shadow-thing… it reached out with its arms and Angus felt it seize him by the throat. It wasn't possible, but he FELT the shadow. It was cool, like the touch of satin against his skin. But strong! It squeezed until Angus felt his throat close up from the pressure. If he'd been human, he would have chocked. As it was, Angus fought. He kicked at the thing, but couldn't touch it. He swung his sword at it, but the blade passed through the shadow ineffectually.

Angus was pulled upward, clear off his feet, and he danged off the ground as if he were nothing more than a child's toy being carried about. He struggled for all his worth, but all his incredible strength was worthless; he was as weak a kitten in comparison.

And then, somehow, it looked at him.

The shadow-thing had no eyes, didn't even have a face, yet it WAS looking at him. It looked into him and he felt it creep inside him…

 **Alfred-**

Alfred was aware of voices and very slowly they became clear enough to understand, but, still, he kept his eyes closed. He was warm and covered in soft blankets. He woke enough to curl a little on his side and press his nose into the pillow. He should have been alarmed about… something. Something big and something bad… but the blankets were very warm and nicely heavy.

"Be gentle, if you truly want him."

Herbert said, "He was nice to Poppy. I know she's ugly, but he really was nice to her. He thought she was cold and tried to rescue her. He also stayed to help Sarah, even after he knew what was going to happen. He didn't try to run away."

"A noble heart is rare."

A cool hand stroked Alfred's hair. It disturbed his sleep and he pulled one hand out from the comfort of the blankets to bat at the hand until it left him alone and he was able to settle back into that pleasant area between sleeping and wakefulness.

It was still dark when Alfred fully woke and opened his eyes. There was a window in the room he'd been put in. It wasn't the room he'd had the encounter with Herbert in that had ended so miserably. The room was plain, but clean and had a blazing fire to warm it very nicely. And, Alfred was surprised to see, he was cuddling a stuffed rabbit.

The toy as very old, worn and frayed in places, but it was soft and plush and had pink buttons for eyes. Alfred gently set the rabbit on the bed, leaning it against a pillow, and stared at it for a moment. He'd always wanted a stuffed toy when he was a child.

As he sat up in the bed, Alfred realized that he was wearing a white nightshirt that as far too big. Herbert's, maybe? Surely the count wouldn't wear something with lace on the hem. In that room, silent but for the crackling of the fire, Alfred sat on the edge of the bed and thought.

He was sore all over and he pushed up the sleeve of the nightshirt he wore to look down at his arm. There were four bites from his wrist up to his shoulder. There was no blood, his arm had clearly been washed. It was only then that he remembered Herbert mentioning something about a hot bath. Alfred swallowed back a sob at the idea that someone, probably either the count or Herbert, had taken his clothes off and washed him.

He wasn't going to cry. Bad enough he'd made such a spectacle of himself when Herbert had been so aggressive and then he'd cried again – right on the count's lap! – at the ball just because he'd been afraid. Crying solved nothing and he knew that. He wasn't going to cry, again.

Give him his dues – Count Von Krolock hadn't lied to Alfred and that was more a courtesy than Alfred usually was afforded. Yes, the whole ball thing had been a right awful nightmare, but he hadn't been killed. The count had been very sympathetic about the whole ordeal and hadn't just tossed him out in the snow when the guests had been finished with him. That sort of thing had happened once or twice when he'd been working at his previous unpleasant job back in London. Instead, Alfred had been given a nice warm bed to sleep in. The count had let Alfred be all stupid and weepy all over his lap and hold his cloak. Even Herbert had been kind enough to make the more horrible guests who were too rough and too handsy go away. The whole thing had been bad but… it could easily have been worse. He hadn't died. Herbert and the count hadn't let any of the vampires do anything dirty to him.

"Maybe," Alfred said to himself. "That was the worst of it. I did what they wanted and they'll let me stay in the village for the winter."

If that was all he had to do, then it was a small price to pay. Really, the whole thing hadn't been that bad, when Alfred looked back at it. It was no different than selling his body for enough money to buy food and shelter to last a few days. It was better, in fact. The count had been nice enough to make sure he wasn't in pain and no one had called him nasty names. Yes, it was definitely much better than what he'd had to do back in London.

Slowly and stiffly, Alfred started to stand up, but winced an instantly sat down, again. His feet hurt. It was then that he remembered his feet had been bitten, too. He stood, again, and was able to manage it without too much trouble. It hurt, but he'd had blisters that hurt more. He could walk. He didn't even have to hunt for his clothes; they were neat folded on a chair near the door with his worn shoes sitting on top of it all.

The door opened just as Alfred had picked up his trousers. He jumped back, away from the door when Herbert walked in.

Herbert looked at Alfred, with his trousers in his hands, and closed the door behind him. "Father wants you to stay."

"I want to leave. Please. Wasn't that ball enough?"

Herbert winced. "Yes… the ball. He didn't WANT that to happen. I didn't, either. Remember? At the village he suggested we invite you to the castle after the guests had left. You just came early." Herbert ran a hand through his hair as he tried to explain. "You see, the village is protected. Father declared that before his guests arrived and all the villagers knew they couldn't leave until the guests were gone. They wouldn't dare hunt in the castle as it's father's home. But some of the guests found you unconscious outside the castle and outside the village so you were fair game to them. Father had to tell them you were for the ball or they'd have killed you right there where you lay. He didn't want things to turn out like they did. He was trying to protect you. If he'd know you'd try to come up here early, he could have just told everyone that there was to be no hunting in his territory; it's not common, but it's acceptable to do so. The guests are all gone, now, anyway."

"But I don't want to stay." Alfred balled his trousers up in his fists. "I… I don't like playing the games you want to play."

Herbert looked at his feet in shame. It wasn't a reaction Alfred expected from a vampire. "I AM sorry. I just thought since you went to my room and didn't even knock that you… well… I was wrong. I got excited. But I shouldn't have grabbed and gotten so rough. I forget how fragile humans are, sometimes. I won't do it, again." He looked up suddenly and gave Alfred a hesitant smile. "But father says you may stay. He wants you to. He'll make you one of us."

"One of… you mean he wants to make me a vampire? He wants to kill me?" But it had felt so nice when the count had petted him and praised him when the horrible vampires had been all around. But the count wanted to kill him and that felt like a betrayal and that made no sense at all.

"No!" Herbert protested. "No, he wouldn't kill you… well… sort of. I suppose it's sort of killing, but," he held his arms out at his sides. "Look at me; do I look dead? I talk and walk and think. I'm at least mostly alive! Father would just change you a little."

"I still don't want to be a vampire. I want to go."

"Go where? The village? There isn't anywhere else to go to around here. You'll stay in the village?" Herbert asked with hopeful eagerness.

Alfred was nervous about that eagerness that Herbert made no effort to hide, but he had little choice. "Yes. But I'll leave when the snow melts. I really need to leave when the roads are clear." Though where he was going to go, he had no idea.

The idea of going back to England without a position made him feel sick. He just knew he'd end up back in Whitechapel doing the same horrible job he'd done before he'd met Professor Abronsius. It occurred to him that if he was going to end up in the same job as before, then it really didn't matter where he went – there were people willing to pay prostitutes all over the world. It wouldn't do to keep getting to upset about the thought of it. Why, he'd done that work for several years and had grown quite numb to it. It was only since he'd gotten lucky enough to get a position serving Professor Abronsius and seen that life could be better that he'd started to fear going back to what he had been. He needed to get himself back to feeling numb and not caring or he was sure his life would destroy him.

Herbert clearly wasn't happy about Alfred's determination. "But father really does want to keep you. He's fond of you, already. You could stay here and be part of the family."

Alfred's breath caught in his throat. Family. He could be part of a family. The count wanted him to stay, wanted him around. How many years had he longed for a family to want him? But… vampires. "I just don't think it's a good idea. I should go." Besides, even if they weren't vampires, Alfred wouldn't have stayed. They couldn't really want him. He wasn't special enough to be wanted. It was possible that the count might have felt badly for Alfred and made the offer out of pity, but to believe that a count would want to always have Alfred around – no. He couldn't believe that. And if Herbert learned what Alfred was, if the count told him that Alfred had often rented himself out to anyone with a few coins in their pockets, Herbert wouldn't want him around, either.

The disappointment on Herbert's face was clear. But he straightened his shoulders. "Alright. I won't stop you. Father doesn't give up easily, though. He'll try to persuade you."

Alfred swallowed, hard. "Persuade? Will he make me be a vampire even if I tell him I don't want to?"

"Oh, no," Herbert quickly reassured him. "He doesn't do that. He'd never force you to, but he will do everything he can to persuade you and he is very convincing. You should rest more before you leave. Don't you still feel weak from blood loss?"

He did, but Alfred shook his head. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

Herbert was quiet for a long while. Then he nodded. "Be safe."

Alfred didn't encounter the count when he left the castle, though he did run into the only servant the castle seemed to have, a man with a terribly hunched back, Koukol. Koukol silently gave Alfred a woolen cloak, ruffled his hair with a big, paw-like hand, and sent Alfred off with a large slice of bread.

Sore and weak, still a little sleepy, Alfred left the castle. He walked in the snow, following his own footprints back down to the village. He'd only gone about half-way to the village before he stumbled upon a worrying sight.

Angus.

Angus stood in the forest and admired the bark of a tree. He just stood there, staring at the tree trunk, while he sang very softly, almost in a whisper, and while the words sounded vaguely familiar, Alfred couldn't guess at the meaning. Angus didn't appear to notice Alfred standing not more than fifteen feet away from him, but kept singing at the tree.

Maybe it was a vampire thing, for Alfred was certain that Angus must be a vampire. He'd been at the castle and had immediately appeared upon the count's call for him. The count had referred to Herbert as Angus' little brother and Angus had easily hauled Herbert away when he'd wanted to disobey the count.

It would have been smart to leave him to his singing. The smart thing to do would have been to just keep walking to the village and not stop until he was safely there. But dawn was only about an hour away. Alfred sighed – no one had ever accused him of being smart.

But… Angus was the son of a lord and Alfred still feared offending him if he proved to be less friendly than the count and Herbert. He pulled off his cap and held it with both hands in front of him as he bowed his head enough to be respectfully. "Sir? Are you alright?" There was no answer and Alfred took a step closer. "Sir? Lord Von Krolock? Are you alright?"

Angus' voice faded away and, in agonizingly slow-motion, he turned to look at Alfred, but he didn't actually seem to be looking at Alfred. It was as if he were looking right trough Alfred. Angus leaned back against his tree and turned his eyes upward as he started his song, again.

By then, Alfred stood at Angus' side. "Can you hear me?"

No answer.

"Lord Angus, you can't stay out here. The sun will rise, soon." Alfred hesitantly reached out and put a hand on Angus' arm. "Please, shouldn't you go back to the castle?"

The singing stopped and Angus, showing off his long fangs, smiled serenely at whatever thoughts drifted through his mind. His eyes were entirely vacant.

Alfred knew then what he would do, though he was fairly certain he'd end up regretting it. He reached out and touched Angus' hand. "Come on. Come with me." When Angus started up his song, again, Alfred tightened his grip on Angus' hand and gave it a little pull. With that small amount of encouragement Angus took a step. "Good," Alfred praised. "That's good. Let's keep going. Just a few more steps."

Step-by-step, they slowly made their way back to the castle and Alfred trembled when he saw it looming ahead. Angus was surprisingly pliant for such a big man. While he wasn't much taller than Alfred, he was massively muscular and Alfred rather felt like small terrier walking next to a bull mastiff. Given his size and that he was a vampire, Alfred was acutely aware that, at any moment, Angus could simply tighten his grip and he would break Alfred's hand.

As they drew near the castle, someone must have spied them because everyone – Count Von Krolock, Herbert, and Koukol – emerged from the castle. The count, with his very long legs, strode towards them so quickly that he was nearly running.

At about five paces away from where Alfred and Angus stood, the count stopped and stared, stunned, at the sight of Angus. He approached slowly and held out both hands when he was in reach. He took Angus' face in his hands and looked closely into his eyes, so closely that their noses almost touched. "Angus? My son?"

Angus kept smiling and began his song, again. He didn't see the count any more than he'd seen Alfred.

The rage that slipped over the count's face was terrible to see. His pale face, that had been so calm while Alfred had been at the castle, twisted and changed into something awful. His voice, which had been such a comfort to Alfred during that horrible ball, was raspy and harsh. "My son!" His fangs were in plain view and he gently stroked Angus' face even as the rest of his body tensed as though he were fighting to control some great beast inside of him.

A hand grabbed Alfred's arm and yanked him away from Angus and the count. Herbert. Herbert held a finger to his lips, indicating the need for silence, then shifted so he stood in front of Alfred, separating him from the outraged count.

Count Von Krolock threw his head back and let out a howl of grief and rage so terrifying that the whole world seemed to tremble.

 **To be continued…**


	7. Exorcised

**Chapter 7: Exorcised**

Faced with such wrath as Count Von Krolock radiated, Alfred, half-hidden behind Herbert, inched his way backwards until his back hit the stone wall of the castle. He had never seen anything quite so terrible as the angry count and he wondered at how Herbert was able to stand there so calmly. It seemed the count was trying to roar down the moon and Alfred guessed he might just be strong enough to do it.

"I didn't do it."

Herbert turned his head so quickly to look at Alfred that his long hair, unbound, whipped around his face.

Alfred barely glanced at Herbert. His eyes were fixed on the count and those terrible fangs. It struck him very hard in that moment that during the ball neither the count nor Herbert had bitten him. They were probably still hungry. Hungry and angry and…

"Alfred, dear?" Herbert had turned to face him and clutched his hands in front of him, as if he wanted to reach out for Alfred but was restraining himself. "What did you say?"

"It's not my fault. I didn't do it. I didn't hurt your brother." He felt panic starting to rise. His stomach hurt. "Honest, I just found him."

Herbert's eyes went very wide. "Oh, darling, no…"

"But I did! I was just walking and I saw him and he was just singing his song and I thought he might stay out there when the sun rose and Professor Abronsius said that would be very bad for vampires and even kill them and I couldn't just leave him there and I didn't hurt him!"

With a surprised look on his face, Herbert hastened to reassure Alfred, "No! We wouldn't think that you - "

"You simply found him standing?" Count Von Krolock said, his voice dreadfully calm and soft, but still strong enough to cut through Herbert's words. The count turned towards Alfred and fixed hard, angry eyes on him. "Alone? No else in the area?"

Alfred nodded, frantically. "Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Excellency. I didn't see anyone else around and he didn't seem hurt, just… well." Alfred struggled to find a word to describe Angus. "Like he is now – he's had a funny turn."

Count Von Krolock looked back at Angus. "I am not laughing at this funny turn." He drew in a deep breath through his nose, then looked up at the lightening sky. "Dawn approaches. Inside." With one swift, easy move, Count Von Krolock lifted Angus up onto his shoulder as if he were nothing more than a large sack of flour. Angus, docilely lay there as the count rushed them into the safety of the castle to escape the threatening sun.

Herbert took hold of Alfred's wrist. "You, too. Come on. You should stay here today; father will want to talk to you."

Alfred meant to protest. He wanted to go back to the village. It would even be easier and warmer traveling in the daylight.

Herbert tugged his arm. "It's for the best. Father will want to talk to you about what happened to Angus and if you go back to the village, he'll just go down there and retrieve you. Might as well stay here and save yourself a long, cold walk. Besides, you'll get to meet Sarah, then." Herbert gave Alfred's arm another tug and Alfred let himself be pulled back to the castle.

If the count really would go fetch him as soon as the sun went down, again, then there was no point in running and he had nowhere else to go but the village. It would be nice to be warm, again, and even if they didn't let him have a fire, he would at least be out of the wind. That would be good. Besides, he wasn't feeling terribly well.

They followed the count as quickly as Alfred could go without Herbert actually picking Alfred up and carrying him, which Alfred rather suspected Herbert wanted to do. They didn't stop at just entering the castle. Rather, they raced through the halls and down to the crypt. Alfred had glimpsed the crypt before, but had been too frightened to go down into the darkness. It hadn't even occurred to him, then, that it was a resting place for vampires. In hindsight, that had been a rather silly mistake.

There were coffins, as was to be expected in a crypt, but rather than use one of them, the count gently lowered Angus onto the floor. "More light! I need to see what I'm doing." The count snapped at Herbert, who, with a whispered word to Alfred to stay put, quickly used a lit candle to light two lanterns and a candelabra holding a dozen candles. Soon the crypt was nearly as brightly lit as if it were daylight.

"What's going on?" At the top of the stairs that led up and out of the crypt, Sarah Chagal stood. She looked far more aware than she had the last time Alfred had seen her. Her ornate, red ball gown was gone and replaced with a far simpler dress of brown wool. She started down the steps and when she'd nearly reached the bottom, she very suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She looked around, then looked at Alfred. "I'm hungry."

The idea that he might have to be afraid of the girl he'd gone to rescue hadn't occurred to Alfred until that moment. But she licked her lips and her fingers tightened on the banister of the stairs.

"Of course you're hungry." Herbert went to Sarah and took her hand. He led her across the room to where Alfred stood, but kept himself between the two of them. "But you fed just a little while ago. You don't need to eat."

"But…" Sarah couldn't take her eyes off Alfred.

"No. Now, hush and watch. I think you ought to see this." The three of them stood and watched in silence as the count knelt next to Angus on the stone floor.

Count Von Krolock spoke softly to Angus and looked him all over. When he spoke, he didn't look away from Angus. "Herbert, keep them out of the way." The count then brought his wrist to Angus' mouth right against Angus' lips, but Angus just kept smiling. The count ran his fingers through Angus' dark curls. "You must drink. Angus? My boy? You must drink." When Angus still didn't respond, but started singing, again, the count brought his wrist to his own mouth and, to Alfred's astonishment, bit hard. If it hurt, the count gave no sign of it. With blood freely running from his wrist, the count brought the wrist back to Angus and pressed it against his mouth. At once the singing was stifled. For a moment, Angus seemed to try to sing passed the wrist, but then his voice faded away. His eyes half-closed and he slowly, weakly raised a hand up to rest on the back of the count's wrist.

"Father?" Herbert asked from where he stood next to Alfred.

"It's alright. He's feeding." The count stayed like that for a time, petting Angus' hair and whispering something gently that that Alfred was too far away to hear. After quite a while, Angus' eyes slid closed and his mouth fell away from the count's wrist and his hand fell back to his side. The count straightened his back and sat up. For a very long while, he just sat on his knees, watching Angus. His forehead was furred with through until he finally said, "This must be done, now. I won't allow this to continue."

"Father," Herbert softly asked. "Should they be here?"

"The sun has risen; Sarah must stay here. Alfred," the count finally looked over at them. "You will stay, also. I will have you understand the danger that book is."

Alfred gaped at Angus. "The book did that?"

"The man who stole it from you did it. The spells contained in that book are vile, but they are only ink on paper until they are purposefully used. That Doctor Alibori did this to my eldest. I will know exactly what spell was used when I've investigated." The count put his own bleeding wrist to his mouth and gave the wound a few licks, cleaning it up neatly and, strangely, when he'd finished, Alfred couldn't see even the slightest scratch – the wound had completely healed. "Herbert, I will need you to look after your sister. I'm afraid sorting out Angus' mind may take quite a while."

"Of course." Herbert, still holding tightly to Sarah's hand took her to sit on the bottom step of the wide stair way. It was plenty big enough for the two of them to sit next to each other and have lots of room to spare. Herbert glanced at Alfred with something that seemed almost like shyness. But Alfred knew that couldn't be right and reprimanded himself for being so stupid. Herbert wasn't shy. Herbert said, "Come and sit, won't you? There's plenty of room." And there was. Sarah was small and while Herbert was rather large and broad-shouldered, the stairs were so wide that there was more than enough room for Alfred.

There was no reason not to and he felt a little light-headed, for some reason. So Alfred sat. He kept his hands on his lap and wondered if Herbert would try something, but Herbert only smiled at him. The smile was so lovely that Alfred felt very strangely as if he were being rewarded for being brave enough to sit with Herbert.

Alfred didn't know what Sarah had been like before the ball, of course, but she seemed a sad state at that moment. Her eyes were wide and she sat with her arms wrapped around herself and her knees pulled up to her chest. She blinked very rapidly and seemed tense as a bowstring. Looking closely, Alfred noticed that she was trembling. Herbert put an arm over her shoulder. Sarah instantly cuddled up to Herbert's side and pressed against him as much as she could without actually crawling into his lap.

Count Von Krolock said, "Alfred, I need you to tell me everything you saw and heard when you found Angus in the forest. Every detail."

Naturally, Alfred remembered all the details, though he didn't see why any of it was important. When he finished, the count didn't seem any happier and Alfred shifted around nervously, wishing that he could think of something to please the count.

Professor Abronsius would have been furious if he'd lived to see Alfred worried about a vampire's good opinion, but Alfred found that it did matter what the count thought of him. It mattered more than just being allowed to stay throughout the winter. The count had been kind to Alfred. He hadn't needed to be gentle during the awful ball, he hadn't needed to give Alfred a warm bed or food, he hadn't needed to be at all concerned for Alfred's comfort, but he had and that meant a great deal to Alfred who knew exactly how worthless he was. Even Professor Abronsius had never been so concerned for Alfred. The count had even gone so far as to, when Alfred had first gone up to the castle, wrapped Alfred up in his cloak to keep Alfred warm when he'd hit his head. Surely, someone evil wouldn't be so kind? So, yes, Alfred found that even though he was still afraid of the vampires, he very much wanted to please Count Von Krolock.

The count tapped his lip with his finger, then nodded. "More information would be preferable."

Alfred winced with shame that he couldn't help more.

"Still," the count continued. "It's better than knowing nothing. Alfred, do not interfere no matter what you see. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Sarah's eyes were trained on Alfred. She reached out to him, but Herbert caught her grasping hand and held it before she could touch Alfred.

When Sarah let out a sad little whimper, Herbert kissed her wrist. "Not now, sister; you already had dinner." Then he apologetically said to Alfred, "Babies always want to eat."

Alfred decided he would stay away from Sarah until she wasn't a baby anymore.

"I will have to go into his mind," the count said, at last, while he looked down at Angus.

Alfred had no idea what that meant, but Herbert nodded while he let Sarah lean against him. He stroked her thick, wavy hair gently, almost absently - a complacent girl with her big brother. They looked so peaceful together that Alfred had the most absurd urge – he wanted a cuddle, too. They looked so comfortable together, despite having known each other for such a short time and despite what was going on in the room. Alfred very suddenly, very strongly, wanted that sort of comfort. It was disturbing. He didn't cuddle. He hadn't had a hug since his mother had died, hadn't even really wanted one. But he was cold and the count looked both scared and angry and Alfred felt sick with guilt – it was all his fault. He really wanted a hug, but couldn't bring himself to ask for one.

Alfred wrapped his arms around himself and gave himself a hug. It was almost as good as a real one.

Count Von Krolock pressed his forehead against Angus'. They stayed like that for a long while, silent and still. Then, Angus' arm twitched. Then his leg. In a moment, his whole body was jerking and writhing. His back suddenly stiffened so hard that his body was bowed with only his shoulders and heels touching the stone floor. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He stayed that way, a body ridged and pained, and all the while the count stayed on his knees at his son's side, pressing their foreheads together, his eyes closed and utterly still.

Slowly, something began to rise from Angus. It drifted up from his arched body like mist – like a black fog. The thing hovered over the two vampires; it stretched and twisted itself. It shook violently and, frighteningly, Angus began to shake, too.

Sarah's hands clutched at the fabric of Herbert's waistcoat and she buried her face against his shoulder. Herbert watched it all with horrified fascination. And Alfred just wanted to run from the room. There was something vile about that black shadow, something sickening and wrong. He wanted desperately to be far away from it, but he couldn't move. And a very small part of Alfred didn't actually want to run; it shouted at him that to run when everyone else was trying to help, when Angus was in such a bad state, would be downright cowardly.

The shadow above Angus wavered and quivered and, out of the blue, a terrible, unearthly scream filled the room. It was unlike anything Alfred had ever heard. It was pained and angry and it echoed off the walls so violently that it seemed to shake the whole castle.

Alfred pressed his hands against his ears to block out the sound, but it made no difference. He was vaguely aware of an arm around his shoulders and he could hear a girl crying. The screaming went on and on. Alfred could feel his bones quaking.

Through it all, Count Von Krolock didn't move a muscle. He sat near Angus' head, their foreheads pressed together. He still mumbled under his breath, for all appearances he didn't see or hear the terrible shadow.

The screaming grew louder and louder and gave one last furious bellow before it was gone. Like a candle being snuffed out, it was just gone. The shadow had vanished.

Alfred gasped for air and slowly lowered his hands away from his ears.

Still, Count Von Krolock kept whispering to Angus.

"Deep breath," Herbert told Alfred. "It's gone, now."

Obediently, Alfred sucked in a deep breath.

It was his arm that was around Alfred's shoulders but as his hand wasn't wandering and he was intently staring at the count and Angus with a dark frown, Alfred didn't protest the touch. Herbert had been very polite ever since the little incident in the library. Alfred looked passed Herbert and saw Sarah with bloody tears on her cheeks and cuddled close to Herbert's side. She sniffled and didn't look at all eager to release her grip on Herbert's arm. She seemed to have completely forgotten her hunger.

Angus' eyes fluttered open and the vast tension in the room eased. He blinked up at his father and looked confused and shaken.

The count sat up straight and asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been trampled by wild horses. What happened…" And then, to Alfred's surprise, Angus paled. It was quite alarming to see a vampire so afraid that their normal pallor went entirely white. "There was a spirit. A… a shadow thing in the forest."

"I know." Count Von Krolock put a comforting hand on Angus' shoulder. "It's gone, now. Thankfully, I knew what it was and was able to deal with it. I swear, it's gone."

Angus nodded and slowly sat up. "I feel like I've been turned inside out, beaten with a big stick, then turned right side out, again. That shadow…" And Angus suddenly lurched over, turning just in time to vomit all over the rug rather than himself. He retched for several awful moments, dark blood spewing out of his mouth, before he was able to control himself and wiped a shaking hand across his mouth that managed to smear some of the blood across his cheek. He looked from the puddle of regurgitated blood then up to the count. "Sorry."

"I can get a new rug. You need to sleep." Count Von Krolock absently rubbed Angus' back. He then helped Angus to stand and lent him an arm to walk to one of the coffins. Very carefully, the count helped Angus into the coffin. Once Angus was laying down, the count fussed over him for a bit, petting his hair and carefully looking him all over to see if there were any other injuries. When he finished mother-henning Angus, the count sharply turned to Alfred. "Do you understand now why that book is so dangerous?"

"The book did that?" Alfred hadn't even guessed that a book could do any such thing.

"The man who stole it from you used a spell in that book to summon the thing," he spat with disgust. "That hurt my Angus. It is old magic, powerful magic, and it's so carefully kept in the book because some fool long ago decided to record it. No sane, reasonable person would ever want that kind of knowledge. The thing that was summoned, that tried to grab hold of my child," his eyes flickered to Angus who still, from his coffin, watched the count. "That was a jusnu, a demon, of sorts. And it's gone, now, sent back to where it came from."

"But… why?" Alfred asked. "I don't understand the point of it."

"I didn't even see the man, father," Angus spoke up. "Never once caught sight of him."

The count sniffed disdainfully. "I am hardly surprised. It would appear that Alibori called the jusnu and let it loose with instructions to attack anyone who might follow. Thankfully, as a vampire, Angus is made of stern stuff." He gave Angus an approving smile. "I always knew your stubborn nature served a purpose. You were too much for it and it could only confound your mind. However," the count turned to Alfred and walked towards him. "Had you decided to follow the man to retrieve the book, you would be dead now. That thing is meant to kill."

Alfred felt a chill run down his spine like a ghostly finger.

The count, with firm determination on his face, said, "We must find Alibori and get the book away from him before he can do more damage with it. He either didn't think that an innocent person might be killed by what he summoned or he didn't care. Perhaps he is an idiot who doesn't understand the amount of power he is toying with. We must get that book from him."

The count took Sarah from Herbert and walked her to her coffin, small and almost dainty amidst the large coffins that her family slept in. He put her to bed and closed the lid of her coffin, then did the same for Angus.

As the count settled his family, Herbert looked at Alfred and asked, "Are you alright?"

Still a bit stunned by everything that had happened, Alfred nodded. "That was… a demon." Such things weren't supposed to be real. But, then again, vampires weren't supposed to be real, either. "How could he just set it out there to wait for someone? Angus was so close to the village. What if one of the villagers had been out there?"

Herbert gave Alfred a squeeze before removing his arm from Alfred. "Well, luckily it was Angus and even a demon can't damage his thick head too much."

"Herbert, don't," Count Von Krolock said, mild disapproval in his voice. "I won't have this taken lightly. Now, get some sleep. Tomorrow will be busy."

Herbert nodded and obediently went to his coffin on the far side of the room. He winked at Alfred before he pulled closed the lid of his coffin.

Alfred turned to look back at the count and found the count standing no more than a foot away from him. Alfred jumped at the sudden nearness.

"Alfred," the count began, gravely. "Thank you for bringing Angus home." He put both hands on Alfred's shoulders. "I can never thank you enough for what you have done, my boy. Such a good boy. So brave and kind."

Alfred squirmed under the praise.

Despite how he disliked being touched, Alfred found that he wasn't the least bit bothered by the count's. It wasn't a nasty touch. Instead, he found that it stirred a distant memory of when his mother would absently rest her hand on his shoulder. He liked it. It felt warm and safe and he didn't mind the count's touch at all. It did disturb him a bit to find himself comparing the large, powerful Count Von Krolock to his frail little mother, but Alfred decided his mother wouldn't have minded too much and he just wouldn't tell the count.

"What are you two doing out there?" Herbert's sleepy voice called out through the lid of his coffin.

"Go to sleep," the count replied. He opened his mouth to say something to Alfred, but Herbert said,

"But what are you talking about? It is important? I want to know."

The lid of Herbert's coffin began to rise, but Count Von Krolock slapped a hand down on it and kept it closed. "Go to sleep."

"But father…" Herbert whined.

"Go to sleep!"

"Fine." Herbert was quiet after that.

The count managed a smile for Alfred. "He's worried about you. He's a flighty little bird, at times, but he is worried and very sorry that he upset you so much. I do hope you'll be able to forgive him, in time."

Alfred squirmed, again, but not with anything nice. People like Herbert and the count weren't supposed to be concerned for Alfred. It went against everything Alfred had learned in life. "He did apologize."

"As is only proper. How are your bites?" He pushed the sleeve of Alfred shirt up to his elbow and examined one of the bite marks a vampire had left in Alfred's forearm. "They are healing well. In another day they will be completely gone."

"They're sore," Alfred admitted. "But it's not bad. Not really." The one on the sole of his foot bothered him quite a bit, but it hardly seemed worth mentioning. His head still hurt more than a little, but Alfred decided there wasn't much that could be done about that, so he ignored it. Alfred coughed. "I can take much worse. Sir, what happens now?"

"Now, we all rest and later we will find Alibori and I will destroy the book. I will need you with me as you are the only one who knows what this Alibori looks like, but I will keep you safe. I don't like taking Angus and Herbert around this sort of dark magic, but I may need them. As for Sarah… I must decide what to do with her. She is far too young to be exposed to such things but I can't leave her alone, yet." His lips tightening as he considered what was to come. Clearly, he wasn't happy about having his family anywhere near Doctor Alibori or the book, but he felt there was little choice. "That is my concern. You must rest and allow yourself to recover. You have had a good deal of blood loss and a head injury." He called out, "Koukol!"

At once, out of the shadows came the count's hunch-backed servant. He bowed as well as he was able to. It occurred to Alfred that Koukol must have been in the crypt the entire time and managed to stay unnoticed.

"Koukol, see that our young guest is fed and put to bed." He gave Alfred a firm look. "I expect you ready to travel the moment the sunsets." Then he climbed into his coffin and started to close the lid over himself.

"Yes, sir. Er… good night, sir… good day, I mean." Alfred was left standing in silence for a moment. He felt entirely lost. But then Koukol was at his side with a lit candle in hand. The candles and lanterns in the crypt were extinguished and Koukol led Alfred out of the crypt. Relieved to have someone telling him what to do, Alfred obediently hurried after Koukol. The first order of the day was breakfast, for which Alfred was extremely grateful for. He stared at the spread Koukol had laid out on the kitchen table, plain and worn from years of use. There was bread and a pitcher of milk and a jar of jam. There was also a great hunch of bloody meat. Alfred couldn't guess what it was, but the blood collected in the plate the meat rested on like a puddle.

Alfred reached for the bread, only to have Koukol smack his hand. Alfred brought his hand back his chest where he cradled it as if Koukol had hit him with a cudgel.

Koukol spoke softly and slowly, but Alfred found that if he paid attention, Koukol was perfectly understandable. "Meat, first."

Alfred eyed the plate of bloody meat, cautiously. "Shouldn't it be cooked?"

With a careless shrug, Koukol cut a large chunk off the slab of meat. "It's cooked, enough." He stabbed the chunk of meat with a fork and plopped it down on the plate in front of Alfred. "Good for you." He reached over and patted Alfred's cheek with a hand that was bigger than Alfred's whole face. "Gave up a lot of blood."

Alfred flinched at the reminder. "Well… I couldn't run away."

They ate together in a strangely comfortable silence for quite a while. At Koukol's insistence, Alfred did eat the meat provided, though he didn't like that it was nearly raw, he managed to swallow it. He'd been hungry often enough to know that his next meal could be hours or days away. He was not fool enough to turn his nose up at food, bloody or not. When they'd finished eating and Alfred felt as if he might burst with one more mouthful, Alfred helped Koukol clear the table. Koukol washed the dishes and Alfred dried. It was all very comfortable.

Alfred felt sure he shouldn't be so comfortable washing breakfast dishes in a vampire's castle.

"You should stay."

Alfred looked over at Koukol after putting the last of the dishes away. "What?"

"You should stay here. His Excellency looks bad, but he's a good master. Better than most."

"Have you worked here long, then?"

"All of my life. He found me."

"I don't understand."

"His Excellency found me in the mountains, abandoned." Koukol made a gesture at himself. "No mother would want this. He saved me and he kept me. He is a good man."

And Alfred had to admit to himself that the count really wasn't as bad as he might have been. Things could have been a lot worse for someone who stumbled unwittingly into a family of vampires. He would have thought more on that, but his head was starting to feel fuzzy. Like when all the horrible vampires bit him. He was very tired.

Alfred was startled out of his thoughts when Koukol touched his arm. "Come. Time to sleep."

But Alfred didn't want to sleep when there were vampires around. He'd get hurt in his sleep… but Herbert promised to be nice. He'd promised. Hadn't he? And everyone else was already asleep except Koukol and he was nice and Alfred's head really was feeling very poorly. He was tired and cold and started to cough, again. The cough wouldn't stop. He kept coughing until his chest hurt and his head throbbed. Finally, it stopped and, only then did he realize that Koukol was right next to him, gently patting his back. "I'm alright," Alfred said when he'd gotten his breath back.

"You're sick." Koukol shook his head. "Too much time in the snow, too much lost blood. Bed." Like a bully of a nanny, Koukol led Alfred to the same room he'd earlier woken in. Though Alfred just wanted to lay down and sleep, Koukol insisted that Alfred change out of his own clothes and put on a nightshirt. Koukol built up the fire and ushered Alfred into bed. "You're sick," Koukol muttered, pressing a hand to Alfred's forehead. "No fever, yet."

"I'm alright."

But Koukol didn't listen. He pulled the blankets over Alfred and actually tucked him in, completely ignoring Alfred's protests that he was a grown-up and didn't need to be tucked in. Alfred didn't really mind.

Alfred didn't fall asleep at once. Even after Koukol left the room and Alfred was alone in the silence, he couldn't fall asleep. The silence only gave him a chance to think and the more he thought the more guilty he felt.

He had been the one to bring the book to the castle and he had led Doctor Alibori straight to the castle. Therefore, it was his fault that Angus had gotten hurt. If Alfred had been stronger or faster or smarter, Doctor Alibori wouldn't have gotten the book away from him and he would have shown the book to the count who would have know what it was and disposed of it before anyone got hurt. It was all Alfred's fault.

Though he still didn't feel terribly well, Alfred got out of bed. He found his clothes by the fire. They were pleasantly warm and dry. He must have lost track of time for them to have dried so thoroughly. A glance out of the window told him that the day was more than half-over. Alfred dressed and was nearly out the door before he remembered that he ought to put his shoes on.

There was no reason, Alfred told himself as he walked through the castle gates and out into the surrounding, snowy forest, that anyone else should get hurt because of his mistake. He would get the book and the count's family could stay in their castle. No one would get hurt and the count would be so pleased – maybe even proud! - when Alfred was able to hand him the terrible book.

Alfred, sick and tired and sore all over, was quite pleased with himself as he stumbled alone into the mountains.

 **To be continued…**


	8. And it Begins

**Chapter 8: And it Begins**

 **Herbert-**

As the sun finally set, Herbert sat in the crypt, impatiently drumming his fingers against his leg. He really needed to bring some books down to read while he waited for the day to end. A soft whine caught his attention and he climbed out of his coffin. Sarah was waking. He pushed up the lid of her coffin and looked down at her. She was rather pretty, he thought. Her long hair was thick and curly and her skin was nicely tanned, as was common for peasants. She would lose that tan soon enough. Sarah tossed her head back and forth as she started to wake.

Content to watch her, Herbert stood over Sarah and admired her. His new baby sister was lovely. She was plump and strong, unlike the fine ladies he'd seen in courts and the wealthy households all over the world. He smiled, thinking of the dress shops he would take her to and what kind of jewelry he would busy to best compliment her. Not to mention the fun he would have hunting with her. Why, as soon as their father declared that she was fit to go out into the world without him, Herbert planned to take her out and show her how to flirt and flatter to get someone alone in a dark alley where a little kiss and soft look would leave anyone vulnerable to a vampire's sharp kiss. She was so lovely that he just knew she would be an excellent huntress.

After a few short minutes, Sarah's eyes flittered opened. For just a moment, her eyes flashed yellow, the color of hunger. She blinked and reached up to grasp Herbert's arm. "Hungry." She whimpered.

"Of course you are."

Both Herbert and Sarah turned to see their father standing just behind Herbert.

"Father," Herbert bowed his head in a show of respect and moved out of the way to let the count have better access to Sarah.

The count patted Sarah's face and helped her to sit up. He smoothed her long, thick hair with his hands. "Good morning, dear. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. So hungry. Please?"

With good-humored indulgence, the count smiled and began to roll back the sleeve of his shirt. "Certainly. You'll learn to hunt very soon and I'm sure you'll enjoy that a lot more than being fed." He gave his wrist to Sarah and gently encouraged her to bite and, when she did so, the count looked at Herbert. "Go fetch our Alfred. I want to be ready to leave in less than an hour. Nothing needs to be brought – we will buy what we need as we go."

Herbert quickly went to do as he was told. At the top of the stairs that led into the castle above, he snuck a glance over his shoulder to see his father speaking gently to Sarah as he let her nurse on his blood. He wondered if he'd looked so sweet when he'd been so young and had relied on his father for everything. His mind instantly flashed to an image of what Alfred might look like laying in the count's arms with his mouth pressed to the count's wrist in a needy suckle.

Alfred would be far sweeter than Sarah… if he accepted.

Herbert left the crypt to go in search of Alfred, but as he happened to pass a window that overlooked the front of the castle, he stopped and frowned. There, walking back towards the castle was Alfred and Koukol. Koukol had one hand on Alfred's arm and the other clamped firmly on the back of Alfred's neck. Curious, and a bit alarmed about what had happened while he'd been sleeping, Herbert rushed down to the main entrance and met them as Koukol brought Alfred inside, muttering angrily the whole time.

"… stay where you're put!"

Alfred tried to speak, "But I…

He was cut off at once by Koukol saying, "You were put to bed, you stay there! Wandering off… in the night… sick!"

"But I'm not sick – not really." Alfred's protest was spoiled by a hacking cough that made Koukol stop walked and pause his diatribe long enough to rub Alfred's back until the coughing stopped. Red-faced and breathing harder than before, Alfred gave Koukol an apologetic look. "It's just a cold. It'll be gone, soon."

Koukol rolled his eyes and growled at Alfred, "If you're not careful, you'll get pneumonia."

Alfred went pale at the idea and it was no wonder. Pneumonia… often, it was a death sentence.

"What is going on," Herbert asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"This young fool went and left a nice warm bed to go have a wander in the forest at night in the snow while he's sick!" Koukol gave Alfred's arm a little shake. "I went to check on him and he was gone; I had to follow his footprints until I found him."

Alfred looked at his feet miserably. "I didn't mean to cause you trouble." He coughed, again, then looked mournfully at Koukol. "I'm sorry."

There couldn't be a soul who could withstand those large, puppy-dog eyes Alfred turned on Koukol. Herbert nearly melted at the sight of them and they weren't even aimed at him. Koukol's shoulders slumped and he ruffled Alfred's hair. "Go inside."

It was such a sweet scene, that Herbert smiled and felt as if his heart was swelling. "I'll take care of him." He wanted so badly to take Alfred's hand, but he was trying so hard to keep his hands to himself. It was hard. Every time he looked at Alfred he had the nearly overpowering urge to cuddle him. "We need to get ready to go. Father won't like you traveling while ill, but I don't think we have much choice. Alibori has already gotten too much of a head start. At this rate, we won't be able to find him."

Koukol went to the kitchen while Herbert took Alfred to the parlor and had him sit in an armchair by the fire while they waited for the rest of the family to gather. After a moment of silence, Alfred said, "Really, I only wanted to help."

"How?" Herbert asked. "You were out alone in the forest. How was that to help?" He didn't ask to be mean, but Alfred flinched and looked down at his lap. "Sweetie, I'm only curious." Herbert crouched down in front of Alfred and looked up. He could see Alfred's eyes peeking out from under his shaggy hair. "Won't you tell me?"

Alfred chewed his thumbnail. He whispered around his thumb, "It's my fault. Don't you see? I brought that horrible book here. If I hadn't, Doctor Alibori wouldn't have come here and he wouldn't have hurt Angus. I thought… maybe… if I got the book back no one else would be in danger."

"Alone? You heard father say how dangerous it is and that Alibori clearly has no hesitation about using it. You could have been killed."

Alfred closed his eyes. "Doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

Alfred looked at Herbert with something like confusion and caution in his expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. He took a deep breath and tried to speak, again, but as he did, Herbert's father walked in with Sarah and Angus.

"Herbert," the count said, at once. "Go with Angus and Sarah and find us clothes to wear. I don't need us standing out."

Angus said, "I brought clothes back with me; enough for us, but not for Sarah or the lad." He gestured towards Alfred. "Their clothes look modern enough, but you won't be able to pass either of them off as family unless you want people thinking you're cruel and neglecting them." At the foul look the count shot at Angus, Angus chuckled. "No, I didn't think you'd like that idea."

The count looked thoughtful, puzzling out how they would stay unobtrusive. It was difficult. They'd all learned the rules long ago and Sarah would have to learn, too. Herbert didn't think Alfred would have any trouble learning to be inconspicuous. In order for vampires to stay safe, it was best that they blend in as much as possible. To have them all go out in their preferred clothing would not be advisable. Herbert liked all his fine lace and silk, but the style he liked was many, many years out of fashion. The count's clothes were even further out of date. People would see them and stare and remember and gossip. Far better to wear common clothing.

The count smiled. "Sarah," he announced. "Will be my new young bride."

Sarah blinked in surprise at the statement. "What?"

"Yes," the count was very satisfied with himself. "We will tell anyone who might ask that during our travels I met and fell hopelessly in love with a young peasant girl and we were married only days ago. I haven't yet had the opportunity to buy her a wardrobe. Yes, that will work very well."

Sarah looked stricken. "But… I don't want to be a wife. If I wanted to be a wife, I'd have stayed in the village."

The count laughed. "It means nothing, just a little falsehood to make our journey easier. A lady cannot travel unaccompanied, after all. It would attract attention and be remembered and we certainly don't want that. However, if you don't like the idea of being a wife, then you will be my long-lost little sister whom I only just realized I had. I can tell people my father had an indiscretion and I only found out after your mother wrote to him a short time ago. Being a family man, I immediately sought out my sister and I am taking her, along with my brothers," he gestures at Herbert and Angus. "On a trip to get to know one another better. We can explain your clothing with the story that your mother is a peasant and I am planning to take you to the city to buy you a wardrobe. That, at least, will not be a lie."

Alfred's face fell. "But, you said you wouldn't lie."

"I won't lie to YOU, Alfred," the count reassured him. "Some lying in our type of life is, unfortunately, necessary. We need to keep hidden, after all. You are going to have to be very careful about what you say and who you say it to. No one can know the truth – not about this."

With a solemn nod, Alfred promised, "I won't say a word! No one would want to talk to me, anyway."

Alfred's lack of self-esteem might have been worrying if it weren't for the very obvious fact that Alfred seemed pleased by the idea of being ignored. Considering what he knew of Alfred's history, that was no real surprise. Alfred must have felt safer if he thought people didn't notice him.

In an effort to be supportive, Herbert leaned forward a put a hand on Alfred's knee. "I want to talk to you. I always like talking to you."

"Angus, Herbert," Count Von Krolock said, abruptly. "Go dress yourselves for the journey. Sarah, go with them and Herbert will help you find a ribbon to tie your hair back; you won't want it blowing around your face in the wind."

"What wind? It's still as anything tonight."

Herbert laughed at Sarah's question and took her hand. "Aren't you in for a surprise?" Then he led her off and left Alfred and the count alone.

 **Alfred-**

"Alfred, we need to talk." The count sat next to Alfred on the sofa and watched him intently for a long moment. Before he said, "There is a decision you need to make. You know about my people. That's perfectly alright, you've done nothing wrong. But, now that you do know, something must be done. We have few laws in our community, but one of the most important is that no human must have knowledge of us. Now that you know, you will be seen as a threat. Something must be done."

Alfred frowned. "But… the people in the village?"

"They suspect – they do not know. There is a world of difference between the two."

"And Koukol?"

"Koukol is no danger; he will never betray me. He will also never leave this secluded area. If he were try to spread the truth of what I am, do you think any rational person will believe him?"

Sadly, Alfred had to admit it was true. Simply because of how Koukol looked, people would assume him to be stupid and they wouldn't believe anything he said. "Oh. So, what needs to be done?"

"There are several options." Count Von Krolock steepled his fingers together in front of him. "I wished to bring you into my family, to make you one of us."

Alfred swallowed hard. "But I don't want to kill people. Are you going to kill me?" Alfred couldn't think of any other option.

"I will kill you if you would prefer that option. I can do it quickly and painlessly, you wouldn't suffer for a moment. However, there is no reason for you to kill anyone. The very young sometimes kill, but only when they have been abandoned. Their masters – the ones who bring them across into the life of a vampire – are responsible for their training and should teach them to control their hunger until they are able to take only what blood they need to survive. If a fledgeling vampire is abandoned by their master, they will have no one to teach them. Angus stayed with me for five years before I was confident about letting him go out into the world alone. Herbert stayed with me for seven years and Sarah will undoubtedly be with me for several years as well. I do not abandon my children." He put a heavy hand on Alfred's shoulder. "I will not allow you to kill anyone."

"Thank you, Excellency." But there was a worry nagging at Alfred and he clenched his hands together on his lap so hard that his knuckles went white. "But… why?"

"Why what?"

"Why keep me? Wouldn't it be easier to kill me?" Alfred knew exactly what he was worth. He was worth a few coins for a few ugly services in a dark alley and he was worth meals when Professor Abronsius was satisfied with his work. But he wasn't attractive like Angus and Sarah and, especially, Herbert. He wasn't clever. He was always awkward and uncomfortable around people. "I'm not worth keeping."

The count's face went very still, but he shifted his hand up until he was holding Alfred's face and made Alfred look him right in the eyes. "Young man, you saved my eldest child's life when you brought him back here, to a place you clearly wanted to get away from. When a dangerous man appeared, you tried to hide Herbert and protect him long before you knew Herbert was strong enough to defend himself. You traveled though unfamiliar forests to save a girl you had never met simply because it was the right thing to do. Alfred, you are a very good young man and I would be very pleased to add you to my bloodline."

Alfred had never heard so many compliments in his whole life. And the count had been very kind… perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible thing.

"And there are benefits to my offer," the count continued. He released Alfred's face, but kept a hand on his shoulder, as if he feared Alfred would bolt from the room given half a chance. "As one of my children, you will live under my protection until you are capable of taking care of yourself and you will become stronger and faster than any human could hope to be." He gave Alfred a meaningful look. "No human will ever touch you without your permission."

Alfred felt as if his heart stopped for just a moment. "No one?" To never have anyone touch him or expect him to do anything ugly just to get a meal? He wouldn't have to buy food. And if the count as going to look after him, then he'd surely be able to stay at the castle so he wouldn't have to pay for a place to live. "No one would touch me?"

"No human. There are other vampires, ones older than yourself, who may behave without manners, but that is why we have family. I will deal with any who try to hurt you."

"But… what if they're stronger than you?"

A peculiar little smirk twisted the count's lips. "Then I suppose I will have to rely on my father. There are few who would dare to challenge him."

"Your father?" The idea that the count, who was so ancient and powerful, would have a guardian lurking around somewhere was almost too terrifying to think about. "Is he very nice?"

The count laughed. "No. He is definitely not nice or kind, but he is strong and he wants only the best for his family."

Alfred fell silent. The hope that he could be strong enough to protect himself, that no one would ever put their hands on him… it was too good to be true. And even if another vampire tried to hurt him, he would have the count, Angus, Herbert, Sarah, and some mysterious man who was even stronger than the count to defend him. It was almost like having a family. And, most importantly of all, he was wanted. The count wanted him. He wasn't needed, the count surely had no need to keep someone like Alfred around, but he wanted Alfred around just because he liked Alfred. Alfred had never expected to have something so amazing to happen to him. But still… to become a vampire…

He didn't want to be a vampire, but it wouldn't be so bad to stay at the castle. They were being kind – he'd had lots of food and a warm bed. Herbert was being nice. No one went out of their way to hurt him. He wouldn't mind staying.

"There is no hurry to make a decision," Count Von Krolock continued. "I wouldn't do it now, anyhow. You are going to be a great help to me during this hunt. Given the importance of this mission, I believe it would be very useful to have a human around to go places I can't go – such as in the sunlight – and to watch over our resting place and wake us if there is danger. I would like you to come with me when I search for him. Do you think you can do that?"

Alfred thought of Angus helpless in the forest and then in such pain as the shadow-thing was forced out of his mind. He didn't want anyone to go through that. So he nodded. "I'll go. I'll help you get the book. What will you do with the book when we get it?"

"Destroy it. It is no good to anyone and will bring nothing but trouble."

Alfred squirmed. "I feel a bit bad ruining it – it doesn't belong to me, remember? Can't we just take it back to the museum? It was in that room for years collecting dust and didn't do any harm."

"I'm sorry, but we can't take the chance that someone else won't try to use it in the future. If it makes you feel better, you won't be destroying it, I will."

It didn't help much, but Alfred couldn't argue with the count's logic and he didn't want anyone else to get hurt. "I'll help you. That's where I was going, anyway. I was going to get it back for you."

Count Von Krolock's eyes widened and his whole body stiffened. "What? You did what?"

With the sudden feeling that he should have kept his mouth shut, Alfred shrank away from the count. He thought Koukol would have told the count. "I'm sorry."

"You will not do such a thing again." Count Von Krolock ordered, sternly. "You saw what that thing did to Angus; you are much more vulnerable simply because you are human. And you are clearly ill. Don't think I haven't heard you coughing. You will not go chasing after Alibori alone, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

The door of the room was flung open then and in came Herbert with an armful of clothes. "Got you some lovely warm things to wear, darling! Can't you have you getting chilly or your cold will get worse." He crowed at Alfred. Herbert was so changed that Alfred stared. His fine silk and lace outfit was gone and, instead, he wore a sensible brown suit. Most shocking of all, his hair had been cut quite short. Herbert saw Alfred staring and grinned. He winked at Alfred and cheekily asked, "Do you like it?" He ran his fingers through his short hair. "It'll grow back by tomorrow night, but Angus tells me modern men don't wear their hair so long. So I thought I'd give it a try. What do you think?"

It was very striking. Alfred quickly averted his eyes, but good manners demanded that he answer the question. "You look… nice." In fact, Herbert looked very nice.

Herbert puffed up like a peacock. "I'm so glad you like it. Now, let's get you ready for the journey." He dropped the armful of clothes of Alfred's lap and made a grab at Alfred's coat, but Alfred jerked away from him. At that, Herbert pouted. "I'm really not going to hurt you. Won't you believe me?"

The count said, "Alfred, it may help Herbert remember not to grab at you if he knew why you don't like it. Would you mind if I told him?"

It wouldn't do any harm for Herbert to know what Alfred used to be. So he shrugged and looked down at his shoes. "It's not really a secret."

So the count told Herbert what he knew of Alfred's past and Alfred wished he were anywhere else in the world while Herbert's cheery expression turned dark and then mournful. When the count finished speaking, Herbert turned those sad eyes on Alfred and said,

"Darling, no wonder you were so upset! I'm a cad! I should have realized was wrong." He paused a bit. "You know, that sort of thing doesn't have to be horrible. Right?"

Alfred blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Well… physical relationships don't have to hurt or be frightening. If the person you're with likes you and wants to treat you well…"

"Stop it!" Alfred shot to his feet, dumping the bundle of clothes on the floor. "Stop it! I-" He broke off abruptly when he realized he was yelling at Herbert and the count. He started to cringe. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. Really."

Count Von Krolock retrieved the clothes from the floor. He set the whole bundle on his chair then pulled a heavy, woolen cloak from the pile and held it out to Alfred. "It is a difficult topic for you."

"I just don't want to talk about it."

The count had Alfred a knitted hat that covered his ears very nicely. "Considering your aversion to simply talking about your former occupation, I am surprised you were able to do it."

"I was VERY hungry. It was something I had to do and here was no way around it so I just got used to it. But if I don't HAVE to do it, I really don't want to." He cast a guarded look at Herbert. "And I know some people like it. They must or people wouldn't keep having babies. But I don't. So… maybe there's must be something wrong with me…"

"No!" Herbert reached out, then shoved his hands into his pockets to keep himself from grabbing at Alfred. "There's nothing wrong with you. There isn't! You are perfectly perfect in every way! You weren't treated nicely, but there's nothing wrong with you!"

Herbert spoke with such earnestness, such compassion, that Alfred was tempted to believe him. When they'd first met, Alfred had been hoping that Herbert would be a friend… maybe that was still possible.

Moments later, in the castle's courtyard, with Alfred bundled up in a coat, hat, scarf, and mittens, Alfred looked questioningly at the count. "Did you say… fly? Fly? We're going to fly?"

Count Von Krolock tugged his white gloves. "Yes. It's far faster and I'm afraid we can't use up more time. I would prefer to wait until you were in good health, but it is going to be difficult enough finding Alibori as it is; if we wait longer, we may not find him until he does something truly terrible with that book. We must start out, now."

Herbert nodded in agreement. "Yes, and if we don't fly, we'd have to take the sleigh and then Koukol wouldn't have any way to get around. We can't leave him stranded. The snow isn't so bad now, but it will get worse before spring."

The thought of more cold weather was daunting. The cold was already making Alfred's lungs ache. He'd started to cough, again, as soon as he'd stepped out into to the courtyard. All the coughing and the lack of sleep had made him very tired and he wished he'd obeyed Koukol and stayed in bed.

The vampire family had all changed their clothes to fit in better with modern society. Angus wore a gray suit and looked as if he could be any common man walking down the street. Of the three of them, Count Von Krolock looked the least changed. His clothes were black with polished silver buttons, but he did look a bit odd without his cloak.

"This is what will happen," the count announced. "We will fly until we reach the next train station where we will board the train. I will get us a private car were we will be able to safely sleep during the day. I need to take care of Sarah – she has no practice flying and I don't want her going alone – so Herbert will be carrying Alfred." He held up a hand when Alfred opened his mouth. "I won't hear arguments. You will let him carry you."

"Yes, sir."

Herbert smiled at the downcast look on Alfred's face. "Darling, I promise I won't drop you." He held out his arms, but Alfred immediately scurried way, bumping into Angus as he did, which caused him to start and back away, again. Clearly, Alfred wasn't going to let himself be carried around like a young bride being carried over the threshold.

"How about piggy-back?"

Everyone turned to look at Sarah. She gave Alfred a bright smile. "Mama used to give me piggy-back rides when I was little. That way, Alfred is hanging onto Herbert and Herbert isn't really holding Alfred." It was a small distinction but on that Alfred appreciated.

Alfred chewed his thumbnail, but whipped it away from his mouth when Count Von Krolock started to reach for it. "Alright. I… I guess that's alright," Alfred hesitatingly said. It took them a moment to get Alfred properly settled, clinging to Herbert's back like a tree-frog. Alfred felt awkward, but as he knew it was coming, he didn't panic at having to touch Herbert. In fact, Herbert was remarkably kind about the whole thing.

"Am I too heavy?" Alfred asked.

Herbert said, "You're light as a feather, dear. Now, you just hold on tight and don't let go."

And then they were flying. It happened so fast. Alfred gripped Herbert around the throat with his initial terror. The wind was bitingly cold against his face and he saw the shadows of trees below. They were flying above the trees – like birds! He was grateful for the darkness as it ensured he couldn't actually see how high they were above the ground.

They reached the town many hours before dawn. In an out of the way alley, they gently dropped to the ground. The count helped Sarah unsteadily regain her footing. Her face was bright and she smiled with great pleasure at the flight. Herbert let Alfred off him back, but Alfred didn't feel nearly so pleased about the whole adventure. He was cold despite all the extra clothes he'd been given and his head felt stuffed up.

They made their way to the train station where the count bought five tickets for them on the next train bound for the west. He made polite conversation with the ticket seller before they all moved away to wait on the platform with the very few other people until the train arrived and they were able to get into the private car the count had arranged for them.

Once alone, the count said to them, "We are going to make a stop in Vienna before we travel on." The count gave Herbert and Angus a significant look. "I expect the two of you to be on your best behavior. It will only be a brief stop in our journey." While he spoke, he kept holding onto Sarah's hand. "Sarah, you will be staying in Vienna while the rest of us travel on."

Sarah's mouth fell open and she looked at the count with utter betrayal written on her face. "You… you're going to leave me? But… but you promised. You promised you'd take care of me." She looked to be about a moment away from tears. "You said if I really wanted to be a vampire, you'd take care of me and teach me and now you're leaving me behind? You promised!"

"I never break my word, my dear child." The count drew her close to his side and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I am not abandoning you, but this threat is too much for you at the moment. I will be leaving you in very secure hands. You will be protected and, unless I am very much mistaken, you will be coddled and spoiled like a little princess. You will be perfectly safe."

It did little to soothe Sarah. Her lip wobbled, threateningly. "But I want to stay with you. I don't know this other person. They'll be horrible."

"They will not. I have known him for a great long while."

"Who is he?"

"My father."

 **To be continued…**


	9. Boian

**A/N: There is a tiny crossover in this chapter. I couldn't resist. Three cheers for anyone who knows what the crossover is.**

 **Chapter 9: Boian**

The train rattled and clattered, jostling every minute as it roared down the railroad. The car the count had rented for them wasn't as luxurious as some were, but it was private and quiet. They all – the count, Angus, Herbert, Sarah, and Alfred – sat together at a small table near one of the windows. Several lanterns lit the car and Alfred huddled on his car seat and leaned his forehead against the window. He couldn't see anything out the window, but he did see his own reflection in the window and it was a pitiful sight.

He coughed, again, and grimaced. He didn't feel at all well. He was tired and cold and he really wanted to sleep, but the idea of sleeping around the vampires didn't seem very smart.

Herbert, as attentive as ever, patted Alfred's knee, sympathetically. "Sweetheart, are you alright?" Herbert sat in the seat next to Alfred. "You still look sick. Oh, I wish father didn't have to ask you to travel!"

"I'm alright," Alfred told him. He was glad he had his jacket, but wished he could warm up. He coughed, again, turning his head as he did. Herbert's short hair still made Alfred stare. It just didn't seem right. Herbert didn't look bad, just different. In fact, he looked rather good as the short hair made his ears all the more visible.

Angus, sitting next to Herbert, spoke up and said, "I have a question."

The count merely raised an eyebrow at him until Angus continued.

"How are we meant to find this toad? This Alibori could have gone anywhere. Yes, it's likely he caught the train, but not definite. And if he did get on a train, it wasn't THIS train. He might have doubled back and gone back to the village or maybe he did get on a train, but headed east rather than west. He would have had to find a way to get to the train station as he can't fly, like we did. Or, maybe, he stayed in that town where the train station was and never got on the train at all." He shook his head. "That's a lot of uncertainity."

But despite Angus' very practical misgivings, the count didn't look a bit worried. "If you had suddenly gotten your hands on a very powerful, stolen relic, would you take it to unfamiliar territory where you have no safety or friends willing to shelter you, where enemies might attack at any moment, or would you take it to where you are strongest? Believe me - he has gone west, back to his home."

"We don't even know where his home is."

The count shrugged. "He spoke English when I spoke with him in the village."

"So do many, many people. I speak English, but my home was always Scotland. Herbert can speak English, but his home was France. Speaking English doesn't mean he comes from England."

There was a long, tense moment as the count considered Angus' doubt.

Alfred was afraid to interrupt his thoughts, especially when Sarah whispered to the count, "I'm hungry."

"Of course, my dear." The count gave her an indulgent smile even as he stood and took her hand to help her rise.

Alfred blinked and sat up straight. "Are we going somewhere?" He really didn't want to get up. He was so tired.

"Sarah and I," Count Von Krolock said, giving his white gloves a little tug to straighten them. "Are going hunting. You and Herbert will stay here so you can rest. Angus will bring you food from the dining car before he goes to get his own meal and, when I have returned, Herbert will go get something for himself. You will stay here and, after you have eaten, you will sleep."

Alfred swallowed hard. "Hunting? I suppose you have to."

"Yes. We have to. Don't fret – no one will die tonight."

After they'd all gone, Alfred said to Herbert, "May I have some paper and something to write with?" After Herbert supplied with what he'd asked for, Alfred wrote something as carefully as he could, considering the shaking train, and handed it to Herbert.

"What's this?" Herbert asked.

"Doctor Alibori's address, I think. Professor Abronisu had his card and I saw it, once. I think your father wants it." Alfred let out a great yawn.

Herbert said nothing for a time, but just as Alfred started to close his eyes, Herbert asked, "Are you going to try to run away? You only wanted to stay at the village because you were afraid you'd die in the mountains. Now, we'll be going to cities – we'll definitely stop at Vienna and probably several other cities before we reach England. You'll be able to run away if you really want to."

It was a dilemma and one that Alfred still hadn't entirely solved. To explain what he didn't really understand… he had to hunt for the right words. "I won't run," he said, after a time. "If I run away now, I'm afraid I have only one way to make my way through life. I don't have any job waiting for me, if I leave. I have no family and no friends. I have no money. Professor Abronsisu never wrote me a reference so I have little chance of finding a good position. Besides all that, your father said now that I know about vampires there is a rule - I have to be a vampire or die. I really don't want to die."

"I don't blame you. But, it wouldn't be so terrible." Herbert gave Alfred a weakly hopeful smile. "Father is very fond of you and Angus likes you, too. And I… you wouldn't really hate to be around me, would you? I can behave myself."

Tired, Alfred leaned his forehead against the train's window. Absently, without much thought, he said, "I thought we could be friends."

"Oh?"

"Back at the inn where we met. I hoped we might be friends."

"We still could be." Herbert eagerly leaned forward, closer to Alfred. "I'd like very much to be your friend. Couldn't we? Soon, if you agree to stay with us, we'll be around each other all the time and it would be lovely if we could be friends."

Alfred stared at his reflection in the window. "No. We can't. You can't be my friend."

"Why not?" Herbert asked, hurt.

"You're rich – a noble. Can't be friends with someone like me. It's just not done." He yawned and closed his eyes. Angus might be returning with food, but Alfred didn't feel a bit hungry. He wanted to sleep. Still, the count had told him to sleep after he ate so he tried to stay awake. He rubbed his eyes and sat up straighter. He wanted to do what he was told, wanted to please the count so very much. If he was turned into a vampire, then he didn't want the count to be angry at him. After all, maybe the count would be kind enough to let Alfred call him 'father'.

Herbert laughed and shook his head at Alfred before he said, "Darling, I'm not a noble. Not really. Father isn't my father the way you think of a father. I was the bastard son of a housemaid. The closest I ever got to nobility when I was human was being a page in the court of Emperor Napoleon."

Shocked, Alfred stared. "Really?" It was hard to imagine Herbert – so elegant and refined – as a mere servant.

"Really. Father chose me. I went from being a page at court to serving in the army and that's where I met father. He took me in and allowed me to be part of his family. So, you see, I'm not really a noble. We can be friends."

Alfred was surprised by the warm little glow he could feel in his chest and he shyly said, "I've never had a friend."

"Good! I'll be your first. And as your first and best friend, I should probably warn you that I want to more than friends with you." He gave Alfred an almost apologetic look. "I know you don't want to, and I wouldn't force you to anything, but you're cute and sweet and I really want to kiss you."

The door of the care flew open and Angus, a tray of food balanced on one hand, sauntered in. He gave Herbert a glare. "Go and get something to eat."

"But…"

"But nothing. I heard it all and he's sick – you leave him alone. Go on." Angus waited there until Herbert, in a huff, stomped away. Angus closed the door behind them and put the tray on the seat next to Alfred. "Go on and eat your fill. And don't you mind 'Bertie. He won't do anything you don't like, he just doesn't always think before he speaks."

Alfred ate, though he didn't feel terribly hungry. As he ate, Angus kept talking. He waxed poetic about his great love of women, all women of any shape and size. He loved blondes and brunettes, dark skin and fair. He loved sweet and shy and bold and brassy. But when he began to speak of a special lady whom he wouldn't name, the smile on his face was gentle. "My dearest lady would love you to pieces."

"Are you married?"

"No. That… doesn't work well for our kind. But she is lovely and bright and I adore her." Angus kept talking for quite a while, never naming his lady love, but moved on to talking about how Herbert really was a good boy and Alfred ought to give him another chance and the count was so happy to have Alfred and was sure to take good care of him if Alfred agreed to join the family and Angus was so happy to have another little brother and promised to always look out for him.

Alfred interrupted with, "Do you like being a vampire?"

With a grin, Angus said, "I hardly remember being human – those times are so far off, now. I am content with my life as it is. Think hard about it, before you tell father what you want to do. I think you could be happy in our family. I'd sure be happy to have another little brother."

And that was it. They wanted him. He had known that the count and Herbert wanted him in the family, but Angus wanted him, too. They all wanted him in the family. Alfred had never been wanted, before. Professor Abronsius had needed him, but no one ever really wanted him. A family. He could have a family. A real – slightly unusual – family that wanted him and cared for him. They would make him strong enough to protect himself. All he had to do to get them was to die.

With that morbid thought running around his mind, Alfred fell asleep and didn't wake up until much later. When he did wake, he was covered in blankets and Herbert's coat.

He felt well. His head was clear and he didn't feel a bit like coughing. "How long have I been asleep?" Alfred rubbed his eyes as he asked.

Count Von Krolock gave him a tolerant smile. "A few days and nights. I wanted you to have time to get over your illness. No need to look alarmed; I simply encouraged your mind to keep resting. You are well, now. We will be leaving shortly, but I have one last chore that needs to be done before we move on to the next train."

Alfred wanted to ask what all that meant. How could they move to another train when the one they were on hadn't reached the station, yet?

Count Von Krolock tossed a small bag to Herbert. "Go multiply that, will you?"

Herbert grinned, wickedly. "My pleasure." He paused, glanced at Alfred, then asked, "Father, may I take Alfred? He should stretch his legs."

"As you wish. Alfred, don't wander off."

And, just like that, Alfred was following Herbert through the train cars. There were some people up, but most everyone was asleep.

"Where are we going?" Alfred asked, after they'd passed through three quiet cars.

"To multiply some money." Herbert looked over his shoulder at Alfred and grinned. Alfred was pretty sure that if they hadn't been in public, Herbert would have winked at him. "We really should have quite a bit more than this," he tossed the little bag the count had given him up in the air and caught it without looking at it. "If we're going to travel in comfort. And I do plan to travel in comfort. Angus doesn't mind roughing it, but I'd prefer to a nice hotel room to finding shelter in some abandoned barn."

"How do you multiply money?"

Herbert laughed. "With a deck of cards. I'm just going to play a card game as soon as I find the right car and you don't have to do anything. You just watch."

"What if no one plays cards on this train?"

"Believe me, somewhere on this train, there is a card table and bored men are gamboling. Oh, how I wish I had your honest face – no one would ever best me in poker."

They walked through the rattling cars of the train until Herbert found what he was looking for – a smoke filled car with two men puffing away on strong-smelling cigars sat at a round table, a card game underway.

"Gentlemen!" Herbert crooned. "I was wondering where all the action was. All these sleepyheads on this train were starting to make me think nothing was going on around here." Herbert gracefully lowered himself into an empty chair at the table and kept smiling. "Sit down, Alfred. I may be a while."

The two men at the table looked at one another, then back at Herbert before one of them said, "You have business here?"

"Ah," Herbert tossed the little bag of coins the count had given him onto the table and untied the string holding it closed so he could empty the coins in the bag onto the table. "I have just a little pin money and I haven't played cards in so long. You wouldn't mind indulging me, would you?" He leaned forward a little and batted his eyelashes at the man who'd spoken, a big, mustached man with red cheeks and thinning hair.

"And your friend?" The second man, a man with dark red hair, looked at Alfred. "Is he here to play?"

Alfred's gut churned. He knew that look. He'd had many men and women look at him in that greedy, hungry manner. He was trying to decide whether or not Herbert would forgive him if he jumped up and ran when Herbert coolly said, "Just a servant. Now, what are we playing?"

"Your servant is a fresh young thing." The second man hadn't taken his eyes off Alfred.

Herbert's smile became rather brittle. "My servant is a boy barely old enough to shave."

While they spoke, it occurred to Alfred that, perhaps, he might be of use. The count needed money for them to travel. Herbert wanted to travel comfortably and, thinking about it, Alfred found that he wanted Herbert to be comfortable, too. He wouldn't like it at all if Herbert were made unhappy because he was forced to sleep on the ground instead of a nice soft bed in a hotel. He closed his eyes for a moment and steadied himself, just as he used to do when he worked the streets of Whitechapel. Slowly, he opened his eyes and felt ready to do what was necessary, if unpleasant.

"I'm not a child."

Everyone in the room turned to look at Alfred. Herbert frowned. "What?"

"I'm not a child, sir. I'm old enough." He managed a little smile, even as he forced back the sick feeling in his stomach at the eager face of the red-haired man. "Old enough for lots of things. I can play games."

Herbert scowled. "You are NOT playing any games."

He wanted to help. The count offered him so much and Herbert had been very kind after the ball and it was all his fault that the book had been brought to the castle and ended up in the hands of such an awful person and Angus had gotten hurt and now maybe all of them would get hurt or even killed… he wanted to help, even if it was only to get money. So Alfred tried, again. "But, I really can play. I know lots of games I'm sure the gentleman would like – for a price."

Just like that, Herbert was up off his chair. He grabbed the count's money and then grabbed Alfred by the scruff of the neck. He hauled Alfred out of the gamboling car and wasn't terribly careful. Herbert strode down the main aisle of the train, pulling Alfred behind himself. He was angry. So furiously angry and Alfred didn't understand why. He was only trying to help!

"Herbert," Alfred cried. "Let me go! Please." When Herbert didn't seem to be listening, Alfred whimpered, "You're hurting me."

Herbert did let go, then. Just outside the count's car, Herbert released Alfred's neck and swung around to face him. "You won't do that, again! Never again!"

Just at that moment, the door of the car opened and Angus peered out. "What's going on out here?"

Herbert grabbed Alfred by the arm and pushed him to Angus who caught Alfred awkwardly. Herbert, as fearsome as Alfred had ever seen him, snarled at Alfred, "You stay here!" Then he turned and stormed away back where they'd come from.

Shocked by what had happened, Alfred didn't notice Count Von Krolock coming to stand at the door with them, until one of the count's hands came to rest on the top of Alfred's head and Alfred looked up. The count was frowning in the direction Herbert had gone in. The count looked down at Alfred, who cringed. "I wanted to help." He wished he could tell the count what he'd done wrong, but he didn't know. He just didn't understand why Herbert was so angry with him.

With a sigh, Count Von Krolock shook his head. "Ah, the bitter drama of youth. Angus, stay with your sister and Alfred. I'm going to have a word with Herbert."

Sarah was very considerate and cuddled up next to Alfred while they waited, muttering to him that she was sure it was all just a misunderstanding because Alfred just couldn't have done anything really bad. Angus kept looking at the closed door with worry. He tapped his foot when he sat and muttered swears when he paced the length of the car.

A short while later, the count returned with Herbert in tow. Herbert looked as miserably guilty as Alfred felt. He shooed Sarah away so he could sit next to Alfred. They both stared at their knees in silence for a long while until the count said cleared his throat and said,

"Herbert has something to tell you, Alfred."

His words seemed to have broken a dam. "I'm so sorry!" Herbert wailed, pounding his knees with his fists. "I didn't mean to hurt you or scare you. I'm the most terrible big brother ever! But… but you shouldn't have done that! You shouldn't be offering to do that sort of thing unless you want to and I know you didn't want to. I brought you along to that game so you could get out of the car for a bit after being so sick, not to offer you up to some random stranger!"

While Herbert railed at him, Alfred began to shy away from him, but Herbert took his hand and the sudden touch made Alfred look up at him and he said, "Is that why you were so angry? I wanted to help. It's all I know how to do and you said we need money."

Herbert hugged him. Alfred froze at the touch, but Herbert's hands didn't wander. It didn't hurt. Herbert just… held him. Then he said to Alfred, "I don't want anyone to hurt you… not even yourself. Darling, I am perfectly capable of getting money without renting you out. I'm a very good gambler." He backed off a little and looked down at Alfred. "Trust me? Please?"

Alfred nodded. "Alright."

"Well," Angus clapped his large hands together and smiled cheerfully at everyone. "Now that little crisis is over, anyone want to tell me who's been propositioning my almost baby brother so I know how to kill?"

"No killing tonight," the count said, much to Angus' disappointment but to Alfred's relief. "I have dealt with the issue and we will let it rest. We must be going. We will move to the next train now that we have all rested and fed. Herbert, you will have another chance to multiply my money on the next train." He tucked the bag of money Herbert had returned to him into an inner pocket of his jacket. He led to the way to the car's door and, when the count threw open the door, Alfred was suddenly, terrifyingly remind of how Professor Abronsius had pushed him from the speeding train when they'd been trying to get away from Doctor Alibori.

He didn't get pushed. Herbert let Alfred climb onto his back, again, and they all flew away. They followed the train tracks until they found another train on traveling west. There, Herbert, without Alfred's company, successfully won several times what the count had given him to gamble with. He did the same on the next train they flew to until the count declared they were in a fine state and wouldn't have to gamble to secure their comfort. When day came, they all took shelter in a cart after the count convinced the people there to leave and not return, though Alfred wasn't sure how he did it. The windows were covered with whatever they could find and the vampires slept the day away in safety. It was, Herbert told Alfred, the same thing they'd done on the first train, though Alfred had been sick and slept through all of that.

After that second train, they arrived in Vienna where, the count told them, they would take a slight detour.

They left the train in Vienna and the count led them down the streets, reminding Alfred somewhat comically of a mother duck leading her ducklings. He decided not to share that thought with the count. Angus and Sarah walked just behind the count as they walked down what Herbert assured Alfred was one of the busiest streets in Vienna.

Alfred felt incredibly out of place. He walked behind the count and Angus, who had Sarah on his arm, and would have walked behind Herbert, if Herbert hadn't been so determined to keep Alfred company and walked at his side. The unpleasant incident on the train was behind them, but not forgotten, and Herbert seemed determined to make up for his temper while Alfred was equally determined to do nothing wrong so he wouldn't upset anyone, again, and make people yell.

At one point, Alfred told Herbert, "I'm supposed to be the servant. You should be walking with His Excellency."

"I can walk with whom I please," Herbert put his nose in the air. "And you're only playing servant until I can get you to a tailor." Herbert grinned widely. "I can just picture you in a suit! Brown, I think, with gold buttons on the waistcoat and some polished black shoes. I wonder if we'll have time to get your hair trimmed… oh! Here we are." He pointed to the very find townhouse they were headed for. "Just remember to do exactly what father tells you to and be polite. Be VERY polite. Our grandsire doesn't appreciate rudeness."

Alfred had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. So that was where they were to leave Sarah. "Should I know anything else?"

There was no time for Herbert to answer. They were at the door. Count Von Krolock went up the steps with Angus at his side and rapped hard on the front door. Only a moment later, the door was opened, but the friendly, smiling man on the other side certainly wasn't what Alfred had been expecting of the ominous grandsire.

The stranger looked a bit younger than the count, with an open expression and bright blue eyes. His hair was dark blonde and thick and while he wasn't especially tall or muscular, he had a strong presence, but there was nothing foreboding about him. In fact, he had a gentle smile and, as soon as he saw who was at his door, he happily pulled the count in for a warm embrace.

"We weren't expecting you," the stranger said. "You should have sent word you were coming; Janette has gone out for a few hours, but she'll be thrilled to see you when she returns." After he ushered them all inside and closed the door behind them, he took time to shake Angus' hand and he kissed Herbert's cheek. "Look at the two of you! Both of you look like real modern gentlemen. Herbert, I never thought I'd see you with short hair. Angus, you're looking very stylish." When Angus rolled his eyes at that, the stranger laughed. "Yes, I know you don't care for fashion. And who is this young lady?" He positively beamed at Sarah. "You're a new face – and such a lovely face."

"Yes," Count Von Krolock put an arm fondly around Sarah's shoulder and held her close to his side. "I have recently added her to my family."

The stranger took Sarah's hand and very properly kissed the back of it, which made Sarah blush, prettily.

At last, his eyes fell on Alfred and his smile faltered for just an instant. "Oh. Hello." Then he turned a puzzled expression to the count. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Alfred." The count smirked at the stranger. "He recently found himself at my Midnight Ball. I've decided to keep him."

The smile faded completely off and he gave the count a stern look. "Keep him? As in…?"

Herbert burst into the conversation and said, "Keep him forever and ever!" he took a hold of Alfred's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "He'll be my little brother and I'm going to teach him everything!"

Angus snorted and easily tugged Herbert away from Alfred. "And my little brother thinks he's all grown up now at not even ninety-years-old!" He yanked Herbert down until Herbert was crouched down low enough that Angus could ruffled his hair. "Isn't he cute? Just so you know, 'Bertie, I'm going to be the one teaching our Alfie. He'll learn to fight dirty, swear, and how to kiss a girl just right to make her swoon."

"He will not!" Herbert protested loudly. "He's- "

"Showing better manners than the two of you," Count Von Krolock said, sternly. He looked from Angus to Herbert. "If you two can't behave decently I'll toss the two of you out and you can find your own place to sleep." The count put a hand on Alfred's shoulder and that cold hand was more comforting than a vampire's hand ought to be. "Alfred, this is my elder brother, Nicholas. He lives here and I hope to prevail upon him for a day's sanctuary."

"And he… knows?" Nicholas raised a meaningful eyebrow.

The count hesitated before he finally answered, "He does and I am dealing with it. My word on that."

Nicholas nodded, but said, "You know HE'S going to have something to say about this." He jerked his head towards Alfred to indicate who 'this' was. "He's at home, tonight, and- "

At that moment a deep voice from down the hall rang out, "Don't lurk in the front hall." There was the sound of slow, almost lazy footsteps tapping on the wooden floor. The tension in the air rose so dramatically that Alfred could almost envision it like a cloud around them. From around a corner a man stepped. He was tall and broad, much like the count and his sons, but his hair was cut severely short and was, like Herbert's, so blonde that it was nearly white. His eyes immediately went to Alfred and regarded him with the coldest eyes, like chips of ice, Alfred had ever seen. He neither smiled nor frowned upon seeing Alfred, simply took note of him. Then he looked at the count and he smiled. as if he were bestowing a favor. He put both of his hands on the count's shoulders and kissed his cheeks. "It is good to see you, Boian." Then he offered up his hand.

The count, to Alfred's utter shock, gracefully bowed and took the stranger's hand. He kissed the man's ring, then straightened up. "Lacroix. I apologize for this impromptu visit."

"Nonsense. Family is always welcome." He looked at Herbert and Angus and held out his hand. Again, they took turns bowing and kissing his ring. He gave Sarah an indulgent smile and kissed her forehead before he held up his hand in front of her. At a nod from the count, Sarah mimicked the others and kissed Lacroix's ring. "Good girl," Lacroix purred out the words. "You are very young if you're just learning such etiquette." He ran a finger down Sarah's cheek. "You bow to me or Boian, but no one else. No one else has the right to make you bend your neck."

Sarah muttered a quiet, "Yes, of course." And it occurred to Alfred that Sarah might be just as intimidated as he was.

Then, unfortunately, he turned his attention back to Alfred. "And this one?" He didn't offer his ring to Alfred, but walked in a slow circle around Alfred, examining him. He dragged a hand across Alfred's back, causing Alfred to stiffen, then rested his big hands on Alfred's shoulders. It was not nearly such a comforting feeling as when the count would touch Alfred's shoulder. "What is this little morsel you've brought into my home, Boian?"

Count Von Krolock said, "This is Alfred. He was recently the… well… the guest of honor at my yearly Midnight Ball. I've decided to keep him. Alfred, I would like you to meet my sire, Lacroix."

Alfred turned his head just enough to look at the tall man standing behind him who grinned down at Alfred as if he'd just heard the most amusing joke.

Alfred had never been so scared of anyone in his life.

 **To be continued…**


	10. Blooded

Chapter 10: Blooded

Alfred-

Lacroix stood perfectly still in the hall, his arms loose at his sides and a faintly amused look on his face. He was very well dressed in black and, on the lapel of his jacket, he had small silver pin shaped like a sword. "Well, it has been quite a while. Have you come to your senses about staying in that drafty pile of rocks you call a castle?"

"No, I quite like my castle." Count Von Krolock must have been used to Lacroix as he didn't seem a bit disconcerted about the mocking tone aimed at him. "We were passing through and I thought we would visit. If this is inconvenient I will of course find a hotel." The count removed his hat and pulled off his gloves, waiting while Herbert and Angus did the same. Alfred, who had no gloves but his knitted mittens, yanked those off and tugged off his cap.

"Don't be absurd." Lacroix didn't move an inch when he spoke. "I told you - my family is always welcomed. Do come in and rest." He smirked and looked right at Alfred. "Maybe we'll all have a bite."

Instantly, Alfred's eyes went wide and his hand went to his throat to protect it.

Lacroix's amusement faded. He narrowed his eyes at the count. "Is there something I should know?"

There was not the faintest possibility that the count was frightened of Lacroix. Alfred quite honestly believed that no one could frighten someone like Count Von Krolock. He was strong and smart and was certainly never afraid. Alfred, on the other hand, would have been content to run out of the building and never see Lacroix again. As that didn't seem like an option, he settled for discretely stepping behind Herbert when Lacroix's attention was diverted.

It was then that Count Von Krolock's brother, Nicholas, cleared his throat and entered the conversation with a disapproving tone that was, to Alfred's surprise, aimed at Lacroix. "I hardly think this drama is necessary, Lacroix. Boian is sensible and knows the code. He wouldn't do something so foolish."

Lacroix didn't bother to look at him. "Don't interfere, Nicholas. You are still in hot water yourself, you don't need to turn up the heat to defend Boian."

"But- "

"No! I have said all that will be said about that incident; it will not be repeated!"

"There is no reason to put your temper on Boian because we had an argument." Nicholas gave the count an apologetic look. "You'll have to excuse us, but…"

With a fierce snarl and eyes that glowed bright red, Lacroix was at Nicholas in a moment. He seized hold of Nicholas's neck with one hand and choked off Nicholas' words. With an effortless move, he spun on his heel and threw Nicholas down the hall where he landed with a thump and only stopped when he crashed against a wall so hard that a painting fell off the wall. Alfred blinked and Lacroix was at Nicholas in a move that seemed faster than lightening. He crouched over Nicholas and had a hand back on Nicholas' throat. He pressed down and Nicholas struggled. He kicked and swung his fists at Lacroix. He bared his fangs and hissed up from where he was pinned on the floor and his eyes glowed just as terribly red as Lacroix's had.

"Alfred. Alfred, listen to me." Herbert gave Alfred a little shake. "It's alright. They do this all the time. Everything's going to be fine."

Alfred heard Herbert and knew Herbert was trying to be understanding, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the battle. It was terrifying and, in a way, awe inspiring. The violence made Alfred want to hide in some dark corner, but the incredible strength they both had… it was indescribable.

When he spoke, Lacoix's voice was so low and distorted that he sounded animal-like. "I said – enough! You will be silent or I will MAKE you silent!"

Nicholas kicked and grabbed handfuls of Lacroix's jacket until Lacroix clenched his fingers around Nicholas' through and lifted a few inches off the ground only to slam him back to the floor so hard that Alfred sure if Nicholas had been human his skull would have cracked.

"You will obey!"

Finally, reluctantly, Nicholas went limp. His fangs receded and his glowing eyes faded back to their normal blue. He lay there for a few long moments until Lacroix seemed satisfied with the surrender and allowed him to stand.

The idea that the count might fight like that with Angus or Herbert was too fantastic to be believed.

Still burning with temper, Lacroix turned his back on Nicholas and strode towards the count. "Does he know? Answer me now!"

"Yes."

Angus stepped closer to Herbert and, together, the two young vampires tried to make a wall of themselves between Alfred and Lacroix.

"How long?"

Count Von Krolock answered, "Since the Midnight Ball."

"Do you mean to tell me that you have traveled all the way from your home with a mortal who knows?" Lacroix's fury seemed likely to explode at any moment. He closed his eyes a moment. "Why would have done something so foolish?" He stood a little taller and appeared to gain control of himself. "Come into the parlor and sit. We have things to discuss." Without waiting for a response, Lacroix turned and strode back where he'd come from.

Nicholas, when Lacroix had gone, slapped a hand on the count's shoulder. "I'm sorry about it, Boian. Best come in and deal with this; his temper won't cool by being made to wait." Then he, too, followed Lacroix and was gone.

"I'm not staying here!" Sarah harshly whispered. She took the count's arm with both hands and imploringly tugged at him. "Please, don't make me stay – he'll kill me!"

"He will do nothing of the sort." Count Von Krolock spoke with utmost conviction. "Nicholas is quite a bit older than you and Lacroix knows how much he can take without really hurting him. He won't discipline you more than you can stand and, if you are good and obedient, he won't discipline you at all. In fact, you are likely to be spoiled rotten by the time I return."

"But… but he's awful! And Mister Nicholas didn't do anything bad and he was just thrown around and choked and… and…" Sarah pleadingly looked up at the count. "Don't make me stay. I'll be good for you. I'll do just what you say and I won't get in your way – honestly."

"I know you would try, but this is for the best." The count took Sarah's hands and kissed her forehead. "You are safe here. He knows you are new and learning and he is an excellent teacher. All the same, let's not keep him waiting. Nicholas is quite right about his temper."

When they entered the parlor, with the count holding Sarah's arm so she couldn't flee, and Herbert holding Alfred's for exactly the same reason, Lacroix had already seated himself in an armchair by the fireplace and Nicholas stood at the window, staring out at the street.

At a gesture from the count, they all sat together on a sofa that faced Lacroix.

The room was so fine, filled with the luxuries of high life, that Alfred felt absolutely filthy. He wasn't mean to be in such a place. He was probably getting the furniture dirty just by sitting on it. What if he hadn't wiped his feet well enough on the front mat and he'd trod mud into the house? The last thing Alfred wanted to do was to cause some offense that would make Lacroix angry.

Once everyone was settled, Lacroix opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a chirp.

Everyone looked at Herbert.

"Ah!" Herbert fumbled at his jacket pocket. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't think she'd wake up here." To everyone's surprise, he pulled Poppy out of his pocket and held her carefully with both hands.

The count stared at Herbert in disbelief. "You brought your squirrel?"

"She needs me!"

Lacroix looked like he was getting ready to explode, again. "Why don't we get to the heart of the issue before I decide to remove someone's heart? Why are you here and why haven't you dealt with the boy?" He didn't spare Alfred a glance. "I am curious about your motives, my child."

"I am making a journey to recover a stolen item," the count answered without hesitation. "Sarah was made only hours after the theft and while I must find the thief, I wouldn't have her in a situation she isn't old enough to deal with. If, by chance, something happened to me and the boys, I wouldn't want her left alone when she can't control the hunger, yet."

"And you want me to… play nanny?" Lacroix leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. "And what on earth ever gave you the idea that I would be willing to mind your fledgling?" He cast a narrow look at Sarah. "And so young. You would abandon her at such an age?"

"No, of course not. But I don't want her in danger." The count raised a hand and gently stroked Sarah's hair. "I would have her somewhere safe and your protection is the safest place I can think of."

"How very flattering. And what has been stolen?"

The count hesitated and that struck Alfred as odd. The count wasn't hesitant about anything. But he distinctly caught the little pause the count made before he said, "A book. It's really nothing that I think would interest you, but…"

"Nothing to interest me? How could I not be interested when you deliver a fresh fledgling into my care without warning? Very unlike you. So, tell me – why is this book so valuable?"

"As I said, it's just a book."

Where he stood by the fireplace, Nicholas rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Boian, lying isn't wise."

But the count stiffened his shoulders. "It is the truth – I am looking for a stolen book. If you are unable to mind Sarah, then- "

At just that moment everyone went silent at the sound of the front door opening and closing and a woman's sweet voice called out, "I'm home!"

She was, without doubt, the most beautiful woman Alfred had ever seen. Her hair was dark as ink and her eyes, equally as dark as her hair, sparkled. She was small and fair, dressed very fashionably and carried a hat box in one gloved hand, showing that she had just come from shopping. Upon seeing them all in the sitting room, she gave a happy little squeal, set her hat box in a chair by the door, and ran to give each of them a hug. She fussed over Herbert's short hair and Angus' suit and she kissed Sarah's cheeks. She completely ignored Alfred. Being ignored was the first familiar, comfortable thing that had happened to Alfred in a long while so he immediately liked the beautiful woman.

"Janette," Lacroix nodded a stately greeting. "I have a project for you." He gestured lazily with one hand to Sarah. "This is your brother's newest fledgling. She will be staying with us for a time. Why don't you see if you can't find her something a little more fashionable to wear. I won't have her wandering about town looking like a poor relation."

"Of course." She took Sarah by the hands and pulled her to her feet. "My dear girl, you have such lovely hair. You will be a sight when we put you in some decent clothes." She put a hand to Sarah's cheek, examining her closely. "Perhaps some jewelry. Something subtle, something small. Rubies, I think."

Sarah seemed taken aback by all the attention. She rubbed the back of one leg with the opposite foot. "I don't want to be trouble."

"Nonesense!" Janette laughed. "It will be lots of fun."

Sarah looked from Janette back to the count. She looked worried and more than a little frightened. But the count gave her an encouraging nod. "Janette," the count said. "I'm sure Lacroix will tell you everything we've discussed, but Sarah is extremely young. I haven't even had time to teach her to hunt."

"Oh," Janette smirked. "No need to worry on that account. I am certain we will have a grand time with such fun lessons." Then she swept Sarah out of the room and they were gone.

Alfred looked away from the door the two woman had gone through and found Lacroix standing right in front of him. He grinned down at Alfred, a mocking, almost amused expression. "You'll tell me the truth won't you, young man?" His eyes were so bright; Alfred couldn't look away. He didn't want to look away. He felt like he was floating, but everything was quite alright so long as he kept listening to Lacroix. "Tell me, why is finding this book so important?"

He had to answer. He wanted to answer. "It's a magic book." A far off thought told Alfred that he shouldn't speak so openly about the count's business, but he really wanted to tell Lacroix everything. "Professor Abronsius stole it from a museum and then he died. Then Doctor Alibori stole it from me. It's a very evil book and the count wants it."

Lacroix very slowly turned to look at Count Von Krolock. His face twisted into an ugly sneer. "Magic? You are dragging your family across Europe, abandoning your fledgling, all for a magic book?" The stress he put on the word 'magic' made it sound like a vile swear, contemptuous. "Have you learned nothing!?"

Alfred felt Herbert's hand wrap around his and he blinked. The urge to please Lacroix slipped away and he was himself, again. He was suddenly aware that everyone was staring at him and he had to fight not to cringe under the attention. "What did I do wrong?"

Lacroix chuckled and stepped away from Alfred. "Nothing at all, young man. You told me everything I wanted to know."

But from how stiffly the count was sitting, Alfred wasn't at all sure he'd done a good thing. He peered around Angus at the count. "Sir?"

"It's nothing to worry about, Alfred. You're not in trouble."

"He may not be in trouble," Lacroix said, scathingly. "But you!" He fixed a hard look on Count Von Krolock. "I had imagined you would be over this primitive obsession with magic." He nearly spat the word, he was so disgusted. "There is no magic." The utter conviction with which he spoke was absolute.

Count Von Krolock sighed and Alfred had the sudden impression that this was an old argument. "Please, whether you believe or not…"

"You are a fool," Lacroix bit out. "Dragging the young ones across Europe on the trail of some mad mortal with a book. It was hard enough getting Angus civilized without you encouraging a belief in magic. There is no god, no devil, and there is NO magic. I am a man of reason and I will not lower myself to such superstitious nonsense!"

How he could say such things when he was a vampire and had a rather large vampire family, Alfred had no idea.

The count stood and faced Lacroix with what Alfred thought was great courage. The count folded his hands behind his back and bowed his head. "Will you keep Sarah here?"

"I can hardly take her from Janette, now can I? She sulks when her amusements are denied. Yes, I will keep the girl, but do not expect me to approve of this absurd venture of yours." With a sigh of resignation, Lacroix appeared to put his temper aside, but that was hardly reassuring as he turned his full attention on Alfred. "And this one?"

It seemed a very ominous question.

Lacroix snapped at Alfred, "Boy! Your name."

Alfred jumped to his feet. "Alfred, sir. Alfred Cooper."

"Age?"

"Nineteen, sir. I'll be twenty in a few months."

"What of your family?"

"I have none, sir. My mother died a long time ago. Sir," Alfred took a bold step forward, but kept his head bowed. "Please don't be cross at His Excellency, sir. It's been a real hard few days."

Nicholas, still looking out the window, snickered.

But Lacroix gave Alfred a pleased smile. "Do not laugh, Nicholas. It would do you well to see someone with decent manners." To Alfred he said, "You may sit, young man."

Nicholas replied with, "You only say that because he's called you 'sir' four times in the past minute."

"Yes. I do so appreciate good manners in the young." Then he looked at the count. "What are your plans for this one?"

"I will have him as my next fledgling. He was at my ball and knows about our kind, but I find him a worthy young man. I will keep him."

"And yet he is still mortal."

Alfred looked between the two men as they spoke, a sinking feeling in his gut. Beside him, Herbert leaned a little closer and took his hand. Alfred, for once, didn't have the slightest urge to pull away at the touch. In fact, he squeezed Herbert's hand.

Count Von Krolock spoke very calmly, as if that would, in turn, calm Lacroix. "I needed to allow him time to recover after the ball and then we had to leave the castle in great haste. As we are traveling, I wanted to keep him human until our travels were over so that he would be able to guard us during the day. If I try to turn him now he may not survive the attempt and that would leave us more vulnerable during the day."

The look Lacroix gave Alfred clearly showed he had little faith in Alfred being able to guard a turnip, let alone a family of vampires. Alfred quite agreed with him.

Lacroix raised an eyebrow, something Alfred had noticed the count did very often, too. "Your reasons are irrelevant. Our kind has survived very well without relying on mortals during the day for protection. You are nearly five-hundred-years old and you know the code. No mortal may know of us. You have very few options: turn him into one of us, kill him, make him a blooded, or erase his memory. If he does not survive his conversion, then it was not meant to be. You bury him and move on."

The cold tone of Lacroix's ultimatum was frightening, but Alfred found that his mind had frozen on the word 'erase'. The idea that his memory could be taken away was terrifying. He didn't have much in life, but at least his mind was his own. It struck Alfred very clearly that he would sooner die than have anyone steal his memory.

Lacroix sat back, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Boian, you must do something about this – now. I will tolerate your absurd belief in magic and your absolutely ridiculous notion to chase after a human with a magic book, but I will not abide you flagrantly waltzing about the world with a human in tow as if he were a pet. Do you want the Enforcers to start prowling around?"

"Of course not, but it is permissible for me to keep him as our daylight guard."

"Yes, it is – if the mortal you have chosen to be your guard is blooded. Is he?"

"… no."

"Then see to it; I will not allow him to leave this house until it is done." He stood up and gave the count a stern look. "You will deal with this issue now… or I will." Then he swept out of the room and was gone.

No more than three minutes later, Count Von Krolock had hurried everyone to one of the guest rooms Nicholas showed them to. Nicholas put a hand on the count's arm as they went into the room. "Are you going to be alright? Lacroix may be a little moody tonight, but he will help."

"No." The count gave Nicholas a reassuring smile. "I'm sure it will work out - I know the procedure. Thank you, though."

As soon as Nicholas had gone and they were alone in the room, Count Von Krolock urged Alfred to sit on the bed and make himself as comfortable as possible as it was quite likely that he wouldn't enjoy the process.

"But let me ask you first," Count Von Krolock asked when Alfred had sat on the side of the bed. "Do you want this? I told you that I would allow you to choose and I still will. If you prefer to have your memory of us taken, I will do that. I will see that you are cared for and safe before we leave, but there will be no changing your mind after that. You will never see us, again."

Alfred looked at Herbert, who stood very still without a trace of emotion on his face.

"I don't think I'd like that, sir."

"Then I will make you blooded. You will not be a vampire, but this will give us a connection of sorts and, by doing this, I am allowed to keep you without killing you or turning you into a vampire. We will worry about that later. I will bite you and take a little of your blood. You'll feel a few little changes, but you will not be hurt by the sunlight and you will not crave blood. You will be somewhere between a vampire and a human. Doing this will keep us away from the danger of the Enforcers."

"Are they very terrible?"

"Yes," Angus promptly answered. "They are vampires who hunt other vampires and they did not get into that position by being little balls of fluff. We want to avoid them at all cost."

The count asked Alfred, "Do you want this? Be certain."

There didn't seem to be a better choice, so Alfred nodded. "I'll do it, sir. Is it going to hurt?"

"I'm not certain," the count answered. "I was never blooded. It is not common. Angus and Herbert were made into vampires almost the moment I found them. We can tell you what that is like."

Herbert lay down on his stomach beside Alfred. "I thought it was very nice. I liked getting turned into a vampire."

"Aye," Angus grumbled. "And I hated it." He gave the count an apologetic look. "Forgive me, but I wouldn't to go through that pain again for all the world. If I'd known it would hurt so badly, I'd have asked you to leave me on the battlefield where you'd found me."

"And," the count added in. "When I was brought across, I had the unaccountable sensation that I weighed nothing at all. It is impossible to tell you what it will feel like for you, but I won't deliberately hurt you when that time comes and I won't hurt you, now. I will keep the pain from you, just as I did at the ball. Do you understand, pet?"

"Yes, sir." And, strangely, he wasn't very afraid. The count hadn't lied to him, not once. He'd gone out of his way to take care of Alfred. So, probably – hopefully – this would be alright. It couldn't possibly be as bad as the ball had been as there weren't a whole lot of strangers looming over him – it was only the count, who was being very gentle.

The count looked Alfred directly in the eyes, just as he had at the ball and commanded that Alfred feel no pain. The words echoed through Alfred's head. Then, Herbert's hand on his shoulder pushed a little, encouraging Alfred to lay down on the bed. "Try to relax."

Alfred tried, but there was only so relaxed a person could be in such a situation.

Herbert crossed his arms under his head while he lay on his stomach and smiled at Alfred. "Just keep looking at me and it'll be over before you know it."

And then Count Von Krolock bit.

Alfred gasped when he felt the sharp fangs slice into his neck and the count's cool mouth against his skin. There was a peculiar feeling of being sucked on. Alfred kept watching Herbert. The whole thing was unsettling, but Alfred wasn't really frightened. Herbert's face was calm and the count, as he drank from Alfred, held one of Alfred's hands and stroked the back of Alfred's hand with his thumb. Angus sat silently at Alfred's feet, watching it all intently with one hand resting on Alfred's foot. Alfred felt safe. They were all bigger and stronger than he was, but, for once, that was a good thing. He didn't feel small and overpowered – he felt protected.

The count pulled away from Alfred and, when Alfred turned his head to look up at the count, the man was dabbing his lips clean with a white handkerchief. "Very good, Alfred. You did very well. How do you feel?"

"I'm alright." While he was a bit light-headed, he didn't feel as exhausted as he had at the ball. "Is that it? Is it done?"

"Almost. Now, you may find this part a little… disconcerting, but it will only last a moment. When this is done, all will be finished and you will be able to rest." He tucked his handkerchief back into an inner pocket of his jacket. "It's nothing to be afraid of – you're just going to take a taste of my blood."

Alfred balked. If he were to let the count turn him into a real vampire, he would have to drink blood all the time, but that wasn't something he was all that eager to start. "Are you sure? Couldn't we skip that part?"

The count looked like he might laugh. "No. I'm afraid we can't do that. Just a little drink." He brought his wrist up to his mouth and bit himself. To Alfred, it seemed a savage bite, but the count hardly seemed to have felt it. He lowered his bleeding wrist to Alfred's mouth. "Open your mouth. I know this is distressing. There are you… just relax."

Alfred did as he was told and felt the blood run into his mouth and down his throat. The taste was strangely sharp. He didn't enjoy it, but managed to swallow until the count pulled his wrist away.

"Very good, Alfred," the count praised. "So very good."

It was downright shameful how good the praise made Alfred feel.

"There. That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Herbert used his thumb to wipe away the blood on Alfred's mouth, then lapped the blood off his thumb. "Father's right, you were very brave."

Alfred felt a warm, squirmy feeling, like a dozen butterflies were inside his stomach. He wasn't sure if he should thank Herbert for the compliment or not, but before he could make up his mind… something changed.

He let out a cry and stared down at himself, horrified.

"Lad?" Angus asked. "What's the trouble?"

He could FEEL it! Alfred sat up and started rubbing at his arms, but the feeling didn't go away. He could feel something moving under his skin. He started scratching himself. It didn't help. He scratched his arms, he legs, the back of his neck, his head – any part of his body he could reach. Nothing helped. It was maddening!

Herbert sat up and frowned at Alfred. "Darling, what's wrong? Please… you'll hurt yourself if you keep scratching."

But Alfred couldn't stop. "I can't! It's like… bugs under my skin! It won't stop!" He could feel things moving under his skin, could feel their tiny legs walking around inside him and he wailed, "Make it stop! Please!" Alfred suddenly felt the little bugs move under the skin of his face. Alfred screamed and raised his hands up to scratch and, in his desperation to get the things out from under his skin, he sunk his fingernails deep into his cheeks and clawed himself, leaving deep, bloody gashes down the sides of his face.

To be continued…


	11. Storm Clouds

Chapter 11: Storm Clouds

Herbert-

The moment Alfred began to scratch at himself, Herbert grew alarmed. Only moments after he'd drunk blood, it was still fresh and shining on Alfred's lips, Alfred had flown into a panic, scratching at himself and screaming of insects under his skin.

There were, of course, no bugs under Alfred's skin. It was just his mind being befuddled by how radically his body had changed. It happened to them all, though Herbert had never seen anyone with such a severe reaction.

Angus, bless his practical little soul, had seized hold of Alfred's ankles and held him still, though Alfred hadn't seemed to notice at all. "Grab his hands - " But Angus' snapped order was too late as Alfred raised his hands to his and clawed himself.

It was awful. Great long bloody stripes ran down Alfred's cheeks almost from his eyes to his chin.

"His hands, 'Bertie!" Angus growled. "Grab his hands!"

Herbert did yank Alfred's hands away from his face, but only a moment after Count Von Krolock took Alfred's face in his hands and forced Alfred to look at him. Alfred's wild eyes were wide, nearly bulging with horror of whatever was going on his mind. Alfred's mouth was opened, but no sound came out other than ragged breathing. He shook violently and looked so small and helpless and young that it nearly broke Herbert's heart.

Count Von Krolock held Alfred's head steady, which was well done for Alfred was twitching and jerking so frantically, that he surely would have gotten his face away from the count if he hadn't been held so firmly. As it was, the count held Alfred in place and stared directly into his eyes. "Alfred," the count spoke softly. "You will listen. You must listen."

Alfred let out a whimper.

"Answer me. Can you hear me?"

"… yes, sir."

"Good boy. Now, listen very carefully. You are safe. You are protected. And now, you will sleep."

Instantly, like a candle snuffed out, Alfred's eyes closed and his had slumped forward until his chin rested on his chest.

They all fell quite until it was apparently that Alfred was well asleep. Angus released Alfred's ankles and Herbert let go of his hands. The count gently lowered Alfred back down to the bed and put his head on the pillow. Angus covered him with a blanket and made sure to cover his feet.

"I remember," Angus said with a deep, thoughtful tone. "When I was mortal, I hated having cold feet."

They all fell quiet for a moment, all of them watching Alfred. The blood on his face was tempting. Herbert so wanted to lean over and run his tongue over those scratches. They weren't as terrible as they'd first looked; Alfred kept his fingernails cut short and tidy. The temptation was terrible. Herbert licked his lips.

"Will you drink from him?" Count Von Krolock asked.

"No." He dearly wanted to. The hunger was painful. It gnawed at his insides like a starving animal trying to eat its way out of him. "I want it willingly and he can't be willing if he's asleep."

The count reached over and ran a hand over Herbert's hair. "I told you about his past. It is entirely too likely that he will never be comfortable with physical affection. He may never want you to bite him, though I think he will allow it."

But that wasn't good enough. Herbert had the very strong feeling that Alfred allowed many things that he didn't actually want. That wasn't good enough, not by a long-shot. He didn't want Alfred to allow a bite, he wanted Alfred to want the bite - the intimacy. If he didn't really want it, then the taste of his blood would lose all meaning.

They waited for hours. Alfred slept on.

Sarah, newly dressed in a far more fashionable dress than the one she'd worn at the village, slipped into the room and sat gracefully at the count's feet where he sat at Alfred's side. She looked up at the count, hopeful and eager. "Do you like my dress? Janette picked it out for me."

"You look lovely, my dear." The count gave her an indulgent, approving smile. "Do you like Janette?"

"She is very kind and told me she would teach me to hunt." Sarah bit her bottom lip. "I am a little nervous."

"You will do wonderfully. Janette is much older than I am and has a great deal of experience hunting. I am sure you will enjoy her company."

The group fell back into silence for a time, content to be together and wait for their Alfred to wake.

The sun rose and everyone in the house slept.

When they woke and found that Alfred still slept, the count decided to wake Alfred. It was as simple to wake him as it had been to sleep.

They gave Alfred a moment to get his bearings before the count asked, "How are you feeling?"

Alfred seemed bewildered. He looked down at his hands, then touched his healed face where he'd earlier clawed himself. He looked around at all of them, before looking up at the count. "I… I don't feel much different. My skin still itches, but it's not as bad as it was."

"That will go away shortly. You shouldn't feel too different, but this gives you and I a connection that will warn other vampires to keep away from you and let me know your general emotional state. It will wear off after a time, if you don't take more of my blood, but I don't think we need to worry about that." He looked at Herbert and Angus. "Now, we need to find out if Alibori is still going towards England. He may have stopped here or taken another route. It would be logical for him to go to his homeland where he would be safest, but humans are rarely logical and we must be certain of our quarry's destination least we waste time racing to England only to find that he has gone to Spain or Sweden or some other place. I have told you what he looks like so you merely need to ask after a man fitting that description. I think we will stay close to the train station for he must surely have been seen by the conductors."

Angus had a large pistol in his hands and polished the barrel meticulously. When he spoke his voice was low and gravely, only a step away from a growl. "And if we find him? If we cross his path?" He looked up from his pistol with a deathly serious expression.

The count replied, "If you happen across him, and if it puts you in no danger, capture him and bring him to me."

It wasn't the answer Angus wanted. His hands clenched around the pistol. "I want to kill him."

But the count, naturally, wasn't intimidated. "And we NEED the book. If you kill him before we get the book, then all of this has been a waste and some other person will find it and use it in their ignorance and we will have more problems than we can deal with. I know you have more reason than anyone to want him dead, but capture him."

Angus looked like he would argue, but bowed his head. "Yes, father."

It was no new thing, this temper of Angus'. Angus was, in general, good-natured, but he was a fighter and had come from a lifetime of war and death, so when a threat appeared before him, he wasted no time in eliminating that threat. To be told that he couldn't do what he believed was the only sensible action must have irked him greatly.

"Don't worry," Herbert told Angus. "Maybe he will have the book with him and if I find Alibori with the book, I'll kill him for you and fetch the book for father."

But Angus' eyes went hard. "You keep away from him! I'm none too keen on you being here in the first place. I'd as soon have you and the lad stayed with Lacroix until this was done with. If you see Alibori, you come fetch me or father, you don't even let him see you!"

The fact that Count Von Krolock didn't contradict Angus only made Herbert pout. As he didn't want to be left behind, he mulishly agreed but there was no time for sulking.

"Don't get comfortable. Up on your feet, if you please." Count Von Krolock stood and stepped away from Alfred's bed. "We need to know what direction to go in and that means we ask around."

They left at once, leaving both Alfred and Sarah behind, and followed Count Von Krolock to the train station. While the count and Angus went to speak with the conductors, Herbert went straight away to the ticket booth and inquired about an old man fitting Alibori's description.

"Oh, he was here. Gave his name as Alibori." The ticket man nodded as he spoke. "Funny little fellow, seemed a bit excitable, if you know what I mean."

"Did he say where he was headed?"

"Oh, west. Stayed on the same train, in fact. He said that if anyone came around looking for him, I should give them this." The ticket man handed Herbert a sealed envelope. On the front was written the name 'Doctor Victor Alibori' and an address. It was a different address than Alfred had given them, but it was still in London. "Then he got right back on his train and they were off."

It was beyond obvious that it was a trap. "He left this for just anyone who asked after him?"

The ticket man shrugged. "I can't explain it. He just said that if anyone were to come looking for him, to give them that envelope."

"Yes, thank you. How long ago was he here?"

"Only a couple of days."

And, because he was more than a little hungry, Herbert decided to bite the ticket man. The man was not as cute or sweet as Alfred – but, really, who was? - but he was pleasant and had a very distinguished moustache that curled up at the ends. So Herbert used a tiny bit of mind control and smiled at the nice man even as he slipped the envelope into an inner pocket of his coat. "You and I should go to a private room, don't you think?"

The man's face went slack the moment Herbert's mind exerted control over his and while Herbert wasn't terribly good at this sort of thing all the time, the ticket man slipped under Herbert's influence easily enough. He smiled at Herbert. "I have a storage room," he suggested.

"That would be perfect." He followed the ticket man to that storage room and, as the man had been so obliging, he tried to be kind in return. Herbert took what blood he needed, but didn't take enough for the man to even feel terribly tired when he was done. When finished, Herbert released the man while he wiped his mouth to make sure there were no suspicious drops of blood to attract attention. "You can go back to work, now."

The man nodded as his mind slowly threw off the effects of Herbert's control and he began to return to himself. He followed Herbert out of the storage room and went back to his desk. The ticket man wouldn't remember any of it when he fully woke – they never did.

Herbert, without another glance at the ticket man, went to find his father and Angus and gleefully told them that Alibori had been seen still on the same train line, still heading west. He was so pleased with being the first to discover where their prey was going, so very happy to have his father and brother proud of him, and his hunger so agreeably satisfied that he completely forgot the envelope in his pocket.

Alfred-

Alfred really should be upset with himself for drinking someone's blood. It wasn't a good thing to do. It wasn't natural and he was pretty sure that God would be mad at him. However, the blood had been willingly, even happily, given so it couldn't be all that terrible. He remembered the sharp taste of blood running down his throat and he remembered the count taking his blood. He wondered if it would feel different if he let Herbert bite him.

Those thoughts rolled around in his head as he walked through the house of the vampires. He didn't want to go anywhere that might be forbidden, but he was pretty sure it would be alright to just go back to the parlor to sit by the fire. The moment he opened the parlor door, Alfred froze.

"Welcome back to the land of the living… such as it is."

Lacroix, with a crystal glass filled with red liquid that Alfred was determined not to ask about, stood at the fire place with one hand resting on the mantle.

A glance around the room showed Alfred that he and Lacroix were alone. That was not good. He was only just learning how the vampire family liked him to behave; he had no idea what Lacroix would expect of him. But, Lacroix had seemed to approve of good manners, so Alfred nodded his head to Lacroix, even as he kept his eyes down on his feet. "Hello, sir."

"Hello." Lacroix sounded mildly amused, but still did move from where he stood.

After a moment of prolonged silence, Alfred timidly said, "His Excellency had to go out, sir. He said he'll be back soon."

"How odd it is to hear him referred to with title. My Boian… a count. He was a knight when I chose him. A righteous man of God," he sneered the word 'God' with unveiled disgust. "Who rode at the side of his Prince to do battle with heathen invaders from the east. Every child in my family has been a warrior in their own right; Nicholas was also a knight of the cross when I found him. Herbert was a soldier and Angus was piper for his clan in Scotland, fighting beside his laird in every battle. Even my lovely Janette is a fighter, in her own way. You, however…" he paused as he regarded Alfred. "You are no warrior. Do you truly wish to stay with him, knowing that my Boian will take your humanity from you and turn you into a creature of the night?"

It was ominous, the way he spoke. Alfred knew he should shout 'yes' he definitely wanted to stay with the count, but he was sure Lacroix would know if he was lying.

"Truth is, Mister Lacroix, I'm not really sure. I don't like the idea of drinking blood and hunting people… how horrible. I don't want to hurt anyone. I never wanted to hurt anyone. But His Excellency said – he promised – he would make me strong. He said if I stay with him and become part of his family, I'd be so strong that no one would ever touch me, again." And that was the crux of the matter. He didn't want to hurt people, but he didn't want to be hurt, anymore, either.

Lacroix raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Have you considered death?"

"What?"

"Death. If you die, no one will hurt you and you won't hurt anyone else. That sounds a sensible way to get what you want. Boian can easily do that without causing you any unnecessary pain."

"But," Alfred quietly said. "I don't want to die. Something nice might happen tomorrow and if I die I'll miss it."

"Nice? Like what?"

"I don't know." If this were some sort of test, Alfred had no idea what the right answer might be. "I don't want to die. You're right – I'm not a warrior and I'm not bright and I'm an awful coward, but I will do as His Excellency tells me and I will try so hard to be good. But… I can't say I want to be a vampire. The thing is, it will be better than…" Better than going back to working the streets. Better than being alone. Better than anything else life had ever offered him. The idea of letting himself be made into a vampire was terrifying, but the idea of living alone and friendless was a thousand times worse. "His Excellency says I may have time to decide, but not too long."

Lacroix merely muttered, "I see. And this whole nonsense about a magic book? Has my fool of a child managed to convince you that such twaddle might be possible? He is mostly quite sensible, if a little melancholy at times. I can't see how he is so incredibly dense that he would believe in magic. He truly is an idiot."

That, Alfred couldn't stand. "Oh, no! He isn't! He isn't foolish at all. He's the smartest person I ever met and he's very kind and you shouldn't talk about him like that! Don't you know it's rude to talk behind people's back? Even if you're right – and you're not! – he's only doing all this to protect people. That book really is magic so shouldn't say such things about His Excellency – I won't let you!" Alfred had stood up as he ranted and his voice rose until he realized who he was yelling at and very suddenly lost his zeal. He lowered his face and sat back down on the bed as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Shouldn't yell."

But Lacroix laughed. "Ah! I see there is some fire in your spine, after all. I haven't been spoke to like that since I was a boy and that, I assure you, was a very long time ago. Perhaps my Boian hasn't chosen so poorly, after all. You may not be a warrior at the moment, but I think with some training, there may be hope for you." Lacroix took his leave then and Alfred was alone in the parlor until the count returned with Angus and Herbert.

Herbert went directly to Alfred to boast that he was the one who'd found out where the enemy was headed. Then he leaned forward a little and whispered, "Darling, I know you don't usually like touching, but may I give you a hug? I've had such a splendid evening and I'm so happy that you're feeling better that I just have to hug someone and you're my first choice. Please?"

Alfred blushed. At least Herbert asked nicely. "Couldn't you give Angus a hug?"

"Angus? Eww."

Angus smacked Herbert on the side of the head.

Without a trace of remorse, Herbert glared at Angus and declared, "Alfred is clearly the cutest person in the room and he's the one I want to hug!"

Such a loud statement might have been enough for Alfred to die of embarrassment if it weren't for the fact that that the count and Angus were already aware and accepting of Herbert's nature.

In the end it was Count Von Krolock who ended it all when he said, "There is one small chore that must be dealt with before we leave." Count Von Krolock fixed Alfred with a firm look. "You are going shopping."

Alfred looked more than a little alarmed. "Why? What did I do wrong?" Then he caught himself and looked horrified at questioning the count. "I'm sorry! I mean – of course I will. What am I shopping for, sir?"

"Clothing."

"Yes, sir. What would you like?" The count's clothes were perfectly nice and didn't need to be replaced, but if that was what he wanted, then Alfred would oblige.

"Not for me. For you."

It stunned Alfred to learn that the count wanted to spend money on him. Alfred looked down at himself. "You don't like my clothes?"

"They will be fine for wearing at home, but they are a little… well… worn. Herbert will take you out to find something a little better to wear."

Instantly, Herbert jumped to his feet. "Yes! Of course. Oh, this will be so much fun!" He took hold of Alfred's hand just as Janette walked in. "Janette! Who is the best tailor in the city? Father says I may get Alfred properly dressed." Herbert was nearly vibrating with excitement.

"No!" Count Von Krolock answered before Janette could even open her mouth. "There will be no tailor. You have one hour before I expect you back here and ready to go. If I have to search for you, you won't like the result."

Herbert's face fell. "An hour? But that's no time at all! How am I supposed to get him anything decent in an hour?"

"He doesn't need a full suit. Get him a coat and a decent hat and then return."

Janette, from the sofa where she'd watched it all play out, stood up and announced, "And I shall go with you. Never fear, I know all the best places to find the finest of fashions. We will have his measurements taken to make him a wardrobe and you will pick it up when you return here for Sarah. In the meantime, we will find him something temporary."

The tailor was happy to work at such a late hour, which Alfred found a bit odd, but he was too shy to comment on it. The man was a flurry of movement, always rushing from here to there in his shop ever since Janette had walked in with Herbert right behind her, tugging Alfred along in his wake.

Alfred was made to stand on a little stood and his measurements were taken – the length of his arms, the size of his neck, the width of his shoulders, everything. While Alfred was subjected to all that, Herbert and Janette wandered the shop, admiring the various fabrics along with the samples of waistcoats and jackets and shirts and all other manner of things set up on display. Alfred took it all as well as he could, reassuring himself that this was what the count wanted and he needed to start obeying very well.

It was more important than ever that he be very good for the count. Because now the count had laid claim to him and, Alfred rather suspected that the count would not look favorably upon Alfred causing trouble of any kind now that he was linked to the count. Also, the count would soon be his master – or his father, if the count was so generous as to allow Alfred to use that title – and he would be Alfred's superior forever. He would have absolute control over Alfred, just like Professor Abronsius had, though Alfred strongly suspected it would take a good deal more to kill Count Von Krolock than a blizzard. So, if the count wanted Alfred to wear fancy clothes, Alfred would do it – even if it meant have a strange man's hands all over him.

When it was over and done with, Alfred had a wonderful new coat, it was brown and as soft as anything. It had been a sample in the tailor's shop, displayed to show off his skills, and Herbert had bought it for Alfred at an absurdly high cost. The coat would hide his well-worn shirt and his trousers weren't all that bad, just a little frayed. His shoes, Herbert and Janette agreed, were a complete loss. They stopped by a cobbler's shop to purchase a pair of ready-made shoes that were tight and stiff, but felt so sturdy Alfred thought he might never have to buy another pair of shoes in his life. They returned to Lacroix's house with Alfred feeling immensely proud of his princely new clothing.

As the count promised, within minutes of returning, they set off on the trail of Doctor Alibori, leaving Sarah behind with a tearful good-bye and promises to return as soon as possible.

Only hours later, as the four of them flew high above the train tracks, did their journey take a turn for the decidedly worse.

A horrendous storm suddenly overtook them.

The wind kicked them here and there and Alfred, being carried by Herbert, held tightly for fear of being ripped away from Herbert. There was no light at all – neither the moon nor the stars could make their way through the heavy storm clouds.

They became separated from the count and Angus. Herbert told Alfred he couldn't see or hear them anywhere and, as his visions and hearing were far great than that of any human, he should have been able to if they were near. After a time, it was just too much. "We must land!" Herbert shouted over the noise of the storm.

Landing seemed like a very good idea and Alfred would have told Herbert so, but the strong wind seemed to tear the words from his mouth. The rain struck his face as hard as if someone were pelting gravel at him and Herbert's flight was so disrupted by the gale that Alfred began to fear he would be thrown from Herbert's back despite their best efforts. He would have felt so much better if he could have seen the count or Angus flying with them, but there was nothing. The darkness was so absolute that he could barely even see Herbert right in front of his face.

A long, low rumble of thunder rolled through the sky. It seemed to be all around them and it shook Alfred right down to his bones. There were several distant flashes of lightening. No one could deny the beauty of it. Alfred saw, in the split second that the lightning flashed, the dark, billowing storm clouds and the lightening, not above them as he might normally see it, but in front of them. It sparked between two of the great mountains of the clouds, racing from one to the other, like a great tear in the darkness, before it vanished and they were left, once again, in darkness until the next bolt of lightning tore across the skies.

"Father!" Herbert shouted out as loudly as he could. There was no answer. Again and again he called out, sometimes for his father and sometimes for Angus, but there was no answer and Alfred feared at how far they must have been separated, for if they were close, he was certain they would have answered Herbert's call and come to help.

Before long there was a small jolt as they landed and Herbert let Alfred down onto the thankfully solid ground. It was in that instant, just as he felt the relief of being safely on the ground and out of the storms that another flash of lightening, so bright that it lit the world as if it were the noonday sun,

They took shelter in a little cottage, abandoned by the look of it. But the roof was solid enough to get the rain off their heads. It was simple enough work for Herbert to find a candle and strike a light, meager though it was. He stood by the window of the cottage with his lit candle in hand, triumphantly, when the whole world went blindingly bright. Painfully bright.

The light vanished as quickly as it had come and when he could see, again, Alfred saw the still-lit candle laying on its side on the floor. The light was plenty bright enough for Alfred to see Herbert laying on his back on the floor, eyes closed, and dead to the world. His hair was smoldering and a strange, sharp smell filled the air. The window Herbert had been standing in front of had been shattered and broken glass lay all over the floor around Herbert.

Lightning. He'd been stuck by lightning. The thought settled in Alfred's mind like a burning weight. Herbert's hair was smoking. Part of his hair had been chard black and, right at Herbert's temple, a horrific wound decorated the side of Herbert's face, a bizarrely delicate burn in the pattern of lace. It was the most terrible thing Alfred had ever seen.

Blood healed. The count's blood had healed Angus and Alfred had a tiny part of the count's blood inside him… so it seemed reasonable that if Herbert drank Alfred's blood then he would heal. The cottage was not light proof and the darkness of the storm would ended soon enough. When the daylight came, Alfred wasn't at all sure that anything he did would be able to shield Herbert well enough from the sun to be able to save him. He had to act and quickly.

He couldn't find anything sharp to cut himself with. There wasn't so much as a kitchen knife laying around the cottage. After a few minutes of desperate searching, Alfred returned to sit at Herbert's side. "What do I do, Herbert? You've got to have blood."

Herbert didn't react at all.

Alfred put his thumb to his mouth and began to gnaw on his thumbnail. The count wouldn't approve, but Alfred just couldn't stop himself. The count said he would have a connection with Alfred and, surely, that would be useful in this situation. Perhaps the count and Angus would find them well before morning? If the count had a small connection with Alfred, who wasn't even really the count's child, then his connection with Herbert must have been much, much stronger. He would know something was wrong with Herbert and he would come to save him. But… maybe he wouldn't make it in time. Maybe he was hurt, too. Maybe Angus was hurt and the count had to take care of him.

Alfred realized he was crying and wiped his face with the sleeve of his coat before, with great determination and absolutely no idea if he was doing the right thing or not, Alfred pulled his mitten off and slowly pushed his hand into Herbert's mouth. He waited, but Herbert didn't bite. Of course he didn't – Alfred really was very stupid. Herbert wasn't even awake, of course he couldn't bite. Alfred took his hand out of Herbert's mouth. He looked around the empty cottage, again, desperately hoping for something sharp – an abandoned pair of scissors, a sewing needle… anything. Finally, he looked at his reflection in the broken remains of the window. The glass window.

There were glass shards all over the floor around Herbert. They were everywhere.

"Stupid, stupid!" How anyone could be as stupid as he was, Alfred just didn't know. Everyone had always told him how much of a fool he was and in that split second when he looked down at poor Herbert, surrounded by shards of glass reflecting the candlelight, he knew they were right.

Pushing all that aside, for it was clearly less important than saving Herbert, Alfred fell back down on his knees beside Herbert and picked up a large shard of glass. He didn't hesitate a minute before he sliced the glass across the palm of his hand. Blood welled up at once and Alfred put his hand just above Herbert's mouth and let the blood drip in.

For a long while, nothing happened. Then, to Alfred's relief and delight, Herbert licked his lips.

Alfred hugged his hurting hand to his chest and held it there. He had nothing to bandage it with, but that didn't turn out to be a problem as, when he looked at his hand only a moment later, the wound had already closed. It was pink and raw and angry looking, but was clearly healing much faster than it should. A quick looked showed that the burns on the side of Herbert's face were healing, too.

Finally, Herbert opened his eyes. He blinked several times, as if he were clearing his vision, and then looked at Alfred. "Hello."

Alfred breathed easier at Herbert's strong, steady voice. "Thank goodness! I really thought you'd been killed. Oh, your father would have been - "

"Father?" Herbert frowned at Alfred. He had a very strong French accent that he hadn't had before. "I think you're a bit confused, friend. I haven't got a father."

"What?" It might have been a joke, but Herbert had never teased Alfred in such a way. "Of course you do. Why would you say such a thing?"

"I do apologize for any confusion. Perhaps you have me confused with someone else." Herbert sat up and rubbed his head. His long hair had grown back and Alfred wondered if he ought to cut it, but he had no scissors as their traveling provisions had been lost in their fall in the storm. "Perhaps introductions might help matters." Herbert got to his feet and stood ram-rod straight before he bowed at the waist with a polite, but empty, smile. "My name is Herbert Page. It's very good to meet you. And who might you be?"

To be continued…


	12. The Forgetful Page

**Chapter 12: The Forgetful Page**

 **Herbert-**

When Herbert woke he was absolutely starving. He felt like he hadn't eaten in a week, like his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out from the hunger. He hadn't been so hungry in years, not since he'd gone into service at the Emperor's palace where even servants ate well.

He could hear the howling of wind and the steady sound of falling rain.

He opened his eyes, but didn't see the familiar dark ceiling of the room he shared in the servant's quarters of the palace. He saw a thatched roof. Herbert frowned at the roof even as he realized he wasn't in his bed. He was on the floor. The dirty floor. And there was a boy… no. A young man. He was just a bit too old to be a boy, but small and thin.

Herbert felt a stirring of fear in his stomach. He had no idea how he'd gotten to such a place or who the stranger was. He'd been kidnapped. How? Herbert stared at the stranger – small and cute as a bunny rabbit – and wondered why he'd been taken. There was always a reason for such crimes, but he didn't know the stranger so it couldn't be personal and he had no wealth so it couldn't be for a ransom. He felt quite ill as the little man stared at him. He was only thankful that the little man watched him with earnest concern for that was much preferable to anger or greed or even disinterest. Compassion meant Herbert had a chance to talk his way out of the situation and get back to the palace. He couldn't underestimate the little man – he could looked harmless, but be stark-raving mad. He could be armed. Herbert suddenly found that he could hardly breathe from fear. He tried to force himself to stay calm, but it didn't work very well.

The young man was dressed in a very strange fashion, but Herbert knew better than to say anything. It wasn't his place to make comments, after all. He'd worked for years in the palace of the Emperor and had seen more outlandish fashions come and go as the courtiers all tried to outdo one another and gain as much attention as possible. There was always a lot of tongue-biting to keep his comments to himself. Herbert's kidnapper, however, wore a strange, but simple, style of clothing. The coat looked new while the trousers were threadbare and worn near through on the knees. The shoes he wore looked new, so new there weren't even any scuffs on the leather, but there were obvious stains on the cuffs and collar of his shirt. It was a puzzle. The whole situation was absolutely mortifying when Herbert realized that he was dressed in a similar fashion rather than in the night shirt he'd gone to bed in and he knew that someone had undressed him in order to put the strange clothes on him. 

When the young man said nothing, but stared at Herbert for such a very long time, Herbert decided that he would have to be one to start the conversation. "Hello." He had absolutely no idea why he'd chosen to speak in English. He knew English, of course, as life in the court had given him an excellent education, but there was no reason to expect the stranger to speak English. He prepared to switch to French but stopped when the young man answered him in English.

"Thank goodness!" The young man let out a sigh and gave Herbert a little smile. "I really thought you'd been killed. Oh, your father would have been - "

"Father?" Herbert frowned. It made no sense. He didn't know the young man – he would have remembered such a face - so it was unlikely that he would know anything of Herbert's family life. And even if he did know Herbert and this was some elaborate joke, why would he tell such a lie? "I think you're a bit confused, friend. I haven't got a father." Well, he had one, of course, but he'd never met him. Herbert was a bastard and his mother, a former housemaid, had never told Herbert the man's name. As the man didn't care to acknowledge Herbert, Herbert had long ago decided he was better off without him. Herbert's mother, before her death, had been an excellent parent and filled Herbert's life with all the love and attention she'd been able to when she hadn't been busy working to put food on the table and pay the rent.

"What?" The confusion on the young man's face seemed sincere. If he was lying, he was doing a very good job of it. He scratched his head, baffled. "Of course you do. Why would you say such a thing?"

Herbert was lost. Time to be sensible, he told himself. So he sat up straight and very properly said, "I do apologize for any confusion. Perhaps you have me confused with someone else." Herbert rubbed his head. "Perhaps introductions might help matters." He stood, shakily, and found that there was glass all around his feet. The window of the cottage had been shattered, as if something had been thrown through it. Herbert bowed at the waist with a cautious smile. "My name is Herbert Page. It's very good to meet you. And who might you be?"

The young man just stared a moment, then said, "Alfred. I'm Alfred Cooper. You really don't know me? But… are you sure? Because this would be a really awful time for a joke. We've known each other for ages! Well… for a few days, anyway."

"No," Herbert kept his voice as calm as possible when he replied. Either the young man was crazy or he was trying to confuse Herbert. Either way, he had to get away. "Look… please. I really need to get back. I can't stay here. If you'd just tell me what you want and why you brought me wherever we are, I can get on my way."

With a curious tilt of his head, Mister Cooper frowned. "Why I… gosh. You really don't remember anything. Herbert, you were struck by lightning. I think it scrambled your brain."

It was an almost insulting lie. "Lightning? If I was struck by lightning, then I would feel some sort of pain, I think. Honestly – I have no money for you to steal or any relatives who would pay a ransom for me. I'm not important at all. There's no reason for this. Just let me leave." Herbert held up his hands as he spoke, both to show his captor that he was unarmed and also to defend himself if need be as he'd heard that crazy people could become violent at a moment's notice if they were crossed. He began to slowly inch his way towards the only door in the cottage. If he could just get out the door, he felt sure he could out run Mister Cooper.

"Please!" Mister Cooper begged. "You must believe me. We do know each other. Why would I kidnap you?"

"How should I know? You're the kidnapper - you tell me. And if we know each other so well, then you tell me something no one else knows about me."

"You have a hairless squirrel in your pocket."

Right. Herbert certainly hadn't been expecting that.

When Herbert did nothing but stare at Mister Cooper – and who wouldn't when told they had a hairless squirrel in their pocket? – Mister Cooper stepped closer and reached out, but Herbert jumped away. When Mister Cooper didn't try to reached out, again, Herbert slipped his own hand into the pocket Mister Cooper had been reaching for and his fingers closed on something small and warm and… wiggling. He pulled out of his pocket the ugliest little rodent he'd ever seen. Herbert nearly dropped the little thing. "Dear God… it's horrible."

"She's Poppy," Mister Cooper said, defensively as he rescued the squirrel from Herbert's hand and cuddled her for a minute before slipping her into his own pocket. "You love her very much. You will love her when you remember." Mister Cooper raised a hand to his head and tugged on his hair in a move that looked entirely unconscious. "You've just got to believe me. If we just wait a bit, I'm sure His Excellency will return and he'll be able to help you remember."

"Excellency? Who?"

"His Excellency Count Von Krolock," Mister Cooper said it as if the name should mean something.

Herbert had an excellent memory and he knew the name and face of every noble at court, every servant who routinely accompanied visiting nobles, of the various government officials along with those men's wives, mistresses, and most of their children. He had never heard of Count Von Krolock.

"How do you know this count, Mister Cooper?"

Mister Cooper looked distressed. "Please, won't you call me 'Alfred'?"

"Are you claiming we are close enough to be on such familiar terms?"

Alfred's face fell. He opened his mouth, then closed it and hung his head. "I thought we were going to be friends."

And by God, if that wasn't almost enough to break Herbert's resolve. He felt quite bad for hurting Alfred's feelings and had to remind himself that Alfred was a kidnapper and wasn't due any sympathy. Herbert had to leave. If he'd been gone from the palace for any amount of time, he'd lose his position and he had nothing to fall back on and no good reference to get him another position. He had to leave, but with Alfred's big eyes looking at him… Herbert sighed and felt his anger slip away. "Fine. Fine. Alfred, then. We'll be friends. But a friend wouldn't keep me prisoner."

Alfred looked astonished. "What? Prisoner? Me? No! I – I wouldn't do that! Herbert, won't you listen? I'll explain everything. We were all traveling together and there was a big storm. We got separated from the count and when we took shelter here, you were struck by a terrible blast of lightning. That's why there's glass all over the floor and you don't know me and you don't remember the count and he's going to be so mad at me because I let you get hurt!" Alfred's whole body cringed and Herbert wondered what sort of monster this count was to earn such a reaction.

Alfred began to pace around the room and, as he did, Herbert noticed that he could see. That wouldn't have been wholly remarkable except that he could see far better than he should have been able to considering that it was obviously late at night and the only light in the room was from a single candle. He could see into every little nook and cranky as if it were midday. That… it wasn't right. It wasn't natural. How had he not noticed earlier? "Why is it so bright?" He muttered. A single candle couldn't give off so much light. Perhaps, Herbert thought, it was moonlight. There were two windows in the cottage, so it was possible that the moon was simple very bright that night. Herbert looked out the window.

Trees.

There were trees everywhere. He couldn't see a single other building. They were in the middle of the forest and he found himself wondering how far they'd gone from the palace for there was no place like this in the city. "This," Herbert slowly said. "Isn't Paris." And the moon wasn't shining at all. Rain fell steady and hard with a gusting wind and a roll of Thunder rumbled in the distance, giving at least a little credence to Alfred's story of Herbert being hit by lightning.

"No. I think we're near the English Channel, though." Alfred came to stand next to Herbert at the window. "I think it might be safer to stay here until the count finds us. The sun will rise soon."

"All the better." Herbert set his jaw with determination. "Travel will be easier in the daylight." When he saw Alfred's stunned expression, Herbert asked, "What?"

"Herbert… you're a vampire. You can't go out in the sunlight; it will kill you."

It was all too much. Herbert's anger at Alfred for his role in the situation faded away and was replaced with pity. Poor Alfred. He'd obviously lost his mind. "A vampire?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. Honest." Alfred was wringing his hands and he looked up at Herbert imploringly. "You have to believe me – if you're outside when the sun rises, it will kill you! Please stay inside at least until tomorrow night when we'll have more time to find somewhere safe for you stay during the day."

Herbert realized with a sinking feeling that Alfred honestly believed what he was saying. He believed that Herbert was a vampire. It really was very sad for such a young man to be so unbalanced. "I think," Herbert said in an effort to placate Alfred's upset. "That we could reach another town before the sun rises and look at the weather - with such a storm the sun won't be able to get through. We should go." He would do his best to get Alfred into the safe hands of an asylum. It was his Christian duty to help those in need and someone who went around accusing innocent servants of being vampires clearly was in need of an asylum.

Alfred's hands clenched at his sides and he tapped his foot uneasily. "We just can't take the chance. See here," he finally said, his voice shaking and desperate. "If you stay here with me through the day, I… I'll give you a kiss."

"W-what? Why… I'm not like that!" Herbert shouted the words and tried hard not to flush. "What makes you think I have any interest in that sort of thing? Your mind is filthy and you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Just suggesting such a vile thing!" Even as he said the words, Herbert, in a mad panic, kept thinking, 'How did he know? Did someone say something or see something? I'll lose my position and I'll never get decent employment! How does he know?' He didn't even want to think about the worst – if Alfred told the wrong people what he knew, then Herbert would likely find himself dead in some dark alley. There really was no way Alfred should have known, though. Herbert was discrete with the incredibly rare few men he'd dallied with and he was certain they'd never had said anything. He was so thrown off by the whole situation – kidnapped and his greatest secret found out - that he actually raised his fist to Alfred and snarled, "You keep your mouth shut and don't say such things!" And the pity of it was that if Alfred hadn't kidnapped him – if he could trust Alfred – he would have happily taken that kiss.

Alfred raised his hands defensively, obviously sure he was going to be hit, and he tensed. Herbert was ashamed of himself. He wasn't a violent person and Alfred was much smaller than he was so it wouldn't have been a fair fight. Actually, the way Alfred just cringed away from Herbert, it wouldn't have been a fight if Herbert lost his temper - it would have been a beating and that understanding left Herbert feeling downright guilty. He lowered his fist and headed for the door.

"No! No!" Alfred pleaded. "Just look, please." When Herbert paused and looked back at him, Alfred picked up the lit candle and went to the cottage's one remaining unbroken window and held up the candle near the window which made his reflection in the glass very clear. "Don't you see?"

Thanks to the candle light, Herbert saw Alfred reflected in the window. "Yes. It's your reflection. What about it?"

"Where's your reflection?"

Herbert took a second look. He moved closer to the window until he was standing right next to Alfred and should have seen himself in the window's glass. He wasn't. The glass showed only Alfred. He waved a hand the glass, then moved from side-to-side as if that might somehow reveal his hidden reflection. Nothing. His mind went numb, as if it had frozen. He reached out and pressed his fingertips against the glass. He had no reflection. "How…" He couldn't even finish the question. He backed away from both Alfred and the window. "It's true? I'm a vampire? What's the year?" His eyes bugged out when Alfred told him. "Almost a hundred years have passed? But that's not," he looked back at where his reflection should have been. "Possible. It's just not." But he couldn't deny the truth and it terrified him.

"Don't be afraid," Alfred desperately implored. "It's nothing really horrible – you actually quite like being a vampire. You're very happy being a vampire. Please don't cry!"

Herbert brought a hand to his face and found that his cheeks were, indeed, wet. However, when he looked at his hand, he found that the tears were red. He was crying blood. Horrified, Herbert furiously wiped at his face and tried to ignore the stains on his hands. "This is not… it can't… a happy vampire? I'm a happy vampire?!" Herbert's horror made his voice rise with every word he spoke. "What kind of monster am I? I'm happy killing people?! Dear God above – why haven't I been killed, yet?"

"Don't think like that. It's not that bad – you told me so yourself. You don't kill people. You're really a very good person or you wouldn't take care of Poppy and you have been very kind to me. You're a good vampire."

The gentle words, clearly meant to be reassuring, inflamed Herbert. "A good vampire?! You are a complete lunatic! There can be so such thing as a good monster! I'm evil!"

Alfred made to reach out to Herbert, but Herbert, still furious and afraid and confused by the sudden revelation that Alfred wasn't lying or crazy, lashed out. He only meant to push Alfred away, but the blow to Alfred's shoulder sent Alfred flying backwards where he slammed into a wall. The whole cottage seemed to shake at the impact and Herbert gaped at what he'd done. Alfred had gone flying off his feet for a good eight feet and lay on the floor in a still heap.

"I've killed him." Herbert said, faintly. He felt sick. "I killed him." Herbert ran to Alfred's side and threw himself down next to him. He slowly and carefully rolled Alfred over onto his back, but the moment he did, Alfred's eyes opened. "Oh, forgive me! I didn't mean it, I really didn't!"

Alfred managed a weak, pained smile. "I'm alright." There was a fearsome gnash across Alfred's forehead.

The blood was tempting, Herbert yearned for just a little taste even as he was disgusted with himself. However, even as he watched, he could see the wound close up. It was unbelievable. It sealed up and soon enough there wasn't a sign of the wound.

Alfred pushed himself up and sat cross-legged on the floor. With his head lowered and his shoulders hunched, Alfred murmured, "I didn't mean to make you angry. I'm sorry."

Herbert couldn't possible have felt worse about attacking someone. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit. Your wound? You had a cut on your forehead."

A touch to the forehead showed nothing, of course, but Alfred told Herbert, "It's better now, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I saw your reflection. You're not a vampire."

"No. The count gave me some of his blood so I seem to heal a little faster." Finally, Alfred looked shyly up at Herbert. "Are you still mad at me?"

Herbert opened his mouth to answer when the terrible hunger he'd been feeling suddenly became too much and he doubled over with the pain of it. With his arms wrapped around himself, Herbert groaned. He was about ready to start eating dirt if that would stop the hunger! "Hungry! I need to eat. Anything! Please. Please." To get something in his belly, he wasn't above begging.

Alfred awkwardly crawled over to sit next to hurt Herbert. Alfred smelled so good. It wasn't the smell of perfume, though. It was something deeper, something more, that seemed to call to Herbert. It was such a powerfully enticing smell that Herbert lost all sense of caution and leaned closer than was proper for two men.

"Herbert," Alfred said, hesitantly. "I can help your hunger, I think."

"Yes." But the smell coming from Alfred was extremely distracting and almost made him forget the hunger. "Please. It hurts."

"Alright. You just have to drink some blood." Alfred's voice was barely more than a whisper and his hand, when he held it out to Herbert, was trembling. "Go on."

Herbert cringed. "No."

"I really think you have to," Alfred put a calming hand on Herbert's arm. "I don't know much about anything, but I do know that you're a vampire and you've been hurt. You need blood. Touch your teeth."

Herbert did as he was told and found that he had fangs. Like an animal, he had huge fangs.

"You see? This is normal for you." Alfred swallowed hard. It looked almost painful. "I trust you. Just… just don't take too much. Please? Go on. Bite."

It was absolutely disgusting. Herbert felt vaguely ill, but more and more the hunger was starting to take overwhelm him. He didn't want blood – he wanted lamb stew or fish or an apple… anything! But Alfred's wrist was right in front of him and Alfred smelled so good, so appealing. Herbert took Alfred's hand and gave another worried look at Alfred before, after getting an encouraging nod, he lowered his mouth.

He didn't want to hurt Alfred. Alfred was only trying to help. But he didn't really know what he was doing and it felt so very strange to feel his teeth sink into the flesh of another person. The sharp taste of blood filled his mouth and, for just a moment, the terrible hunger faded into nothing.

As soon as the hunger was under control, Herbert released Alfred and backed away. He licked his lips and reveled in the taste. Alfred was sweet and filling and Herbert was sickened at how much pleasure he found in the blood. He raised one hand to his mouth and, again, felt his teeth – two long fangs, sharp as needles. He let out a sigh. "This is a nightmare."

With blood on his wrist and looking paler than was quite healthy, Alfred gave Herbert a smile that was probably supposed to be comforting. "Wait until the count finds us; you'll feel better then." He looked at his wrist with satisfaction. "It's already healing. In a minute, you won't be able to tell I was bitten. Do you feel any better?"

Better? He didn't feel so hungry, but he certainly didn't feel good. "What happens now?"

"Well, we should cover the windows so the sun can't get in during the day."

No sooner had Alfred spoken then a massive gust of wind from the storm howled and both Alfred and Herbert heard an ominous crack. The wind grew stronger and there was a rush of noise before the whole cottage collapsed when a tree nearly four feet across and fifty feet tall – old and weak and finally defeated by the storm - crashed down upon it.

Herbert felt a great weight land on him and he was pushed to the floor. He pushed and whatever it was that was on him shifted easily and when he was able to stand, he found that it was the tree. The massive tree that had fallen had landed right on Herbert, but it hadn't done more than annoy Herbert. If he were truly human, he knew, he would have been dead. Instead, he only felt a vague pain in his chest. The candle's light had been snuffed out in an instant, but Herbert's suddenly incredible vision allowed him to still see quite well. A look around showed Herbert that the whole cottage was destroyed. Rain fell heavily down on them. He was more than a little alarmed when he didn't immediately see Alfred. "Alfred? Where are you? Alfred?"

"I'm here." Alfred pushed several large broken tree limbs off and struggled to get to his feet. He looked down at the log he'd heaved off himself and was amazed. "I really am stronger – the count was right."

The cottage was an utter wreck. There was nothing left but a pile of debris. Alfred and Herbert stared at the rubble around them in horrified silence until Herbert slowly turned to Alfred. "You said the sun is rising, soon?"

Alfred nodded. "But it's still raining. Maybe the clouds will be heavy enough to block the sun. Maybe it will keep raining until we find somewhere for you to rest."

That was two too many 'maybe's'. "I suppose there may be another cottage right over the next hill, right?"

"Right. We were heading towards the sea and there are always towns and cities near the sea. We had been flying for hours before the storm hit so we can't be too far off." Alfred's expression and tone didn't hold as much confidence as his words did. "We can't just stand here. The count might not find us tonight and we need to get to shelter. We should start walking and soon we'll find the train tracks and we can follow them to the next town."

"Alright." Herbert looked around at the trees around them. "Which way?"

There was a moment of silence as Alfred looked left, then right. He turned around completely to look behind him. Finally, he pointed in a direction. "That way."

"Why?"

Alfred shrugged. "Why not?"

As Herbert didn't have any better ideas, he nodded and they started walking. "I'm going to burn up in the sun, aren't I? I'm going to die."

"No. Everything will be alright." Alfred took Herbert's hand. "Don't worry; I'll take care of you."

 **To be continued…**


	13. Sealed Evil

**A/N: The characters of Lacroix, Nicholas, and Janette belong to the TV show Forever Knight, an excellent series about a vampire police detective and his vampire family.**

 **Chapter 13: Sealed Evil**

 **Doctor Alibori-**

In Vienna, Doctor Alibori left the train he'd been using for the past several days and went in search of new transport to the west, thinking to evade any who might think to steal his precious book. He spoke to no one as he left the train and barely looked at he passed on the streets of Vienna. He passed a beggar, a tiny girl trying to sell matches, a blind old woman with a cane, and a small family and didn't really see any of them. His mind was fixed on the book.

It would have been convenient to stay on the same train all the way to France where he could board a ship bound for England, but travel was tiring and he wanted a day to rest without the shuttering and clattering of the train rushing down the rails. Still, he wouldn't let down his guard. Even as he strode down the peaceful streets, his eyes kept darting this way and that, as if to catch sight of some lurking enemy whether it be the boy of Abronsius' or an actual vampire.

Doctor Alibori had never actually seen a vampire.

He had never seen any kind of ghost or demon or werewolf or any other sort of supernatural creature and, yet, he had absolutely no doubt at all that they existed. He had read so many books on the subject, listened to so many eye-witness accounts, that over time he became convinced that so many people couldn't possibly be wrong and he just hadn't been lucky enough to see one, yet. So he'd learned and studied until he knew all he could and had finally gotten his hands on the little-known book that purportedly gave a man power over the undead.

He slipped through the crowds easily, ignored the policeman he passed and had no time at all for the beautiful ladies on their way here or there.

They weren't important. None of the stupid, ignorant people were at all important. They didn't know, didn't understand the dangers lurking in the darkness.

At least Professor Abronsius, for all that he was an arrogant twit and Alibori had been quite pleased to hear of his death, had understood the nature of the monsters among them. He knew the truth and had never feared to lecture the brainless people who would laugh at his life's work. He had been a man worth Alibori's attention – an educated man with good standing in society.

The common people who went about their lives without any idea about what monsters hunted them were not worth Alibori's time or concern. The paupers who scraped their living on the streets were even less to him. While the common people were fools, the paupers were almost entirely worthless. Let them die. They deserved it for being so stupid that they couldn't support themselves in any meaningful way. Really, the only use he saw in the dregs of society was learning from them the mechanics of human biology. He'd already found two prostitutes in Whitechapel to experiment on and while it had cause some upset with the local constables, he had observed very interesting things from seeing the insides of humans.

Jack The Ripper was an amusing headline in the newspapers and it had made him laugh when he'd read the first article about himself.

Doctor Alibori had been gone from train station less than fifteen minutes before he saw them and, when he did, he nearly felt his heart stop.

It was a group of them, two men and a young woman who strolled leisurely down the street towards the theater. They were dressed very well, black tail and ties for the men and a deep purple gown with lace on the collar for the woman. They were very clearly upper class and very, very pale. The young man had thick, blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was of average height and weight and smiled charmingly at every person who crossed their path. The young woman, who walked with her hand on the young man's arm, was stunningly beautiful with very dark hair done up with great style and care. She wore a string of pearls around her throat and matching earrings. Her painted lips, dark red, only enhanced her pallor. Those two followed a third man and he was a terrible sight, though Alibori couldn't exactly say why. The man was quite tall and broad in the chest and shoulders. He had full lips and pale, blue eyes as cold as ice that looked out at the world with a barely veiled contempt. The only moment that expression eased off his face was when he turned to look at the two younger people following him when the barely discernable look of fond pride shone on his face.

They were vampires.

He had no real reason to believe they were vampires other than the fact that he didn't think normal people would be so pale, but he was reasonably certain that he was looking at vampires.

'A group of them!' He thought, excitedly. 'Legend says they exist alone, but a group! They live in groups – like a wolf pack or… or flock of ducks!'

But they might have been fair-skinned humans. He couldn't deny that possibility. There was no time to find proof. He suddenly felt as if vampires were all around him. It was, he decided, most likely that they were following him in order to get the book. Somehow, they knew he had it and he was a threat to them. There could be no other reason for such monsters to be showing themselves so openly. His hand tightened on the book as he watched how brazenly they waltzed through the crowds of humans… they had no fear at all. The boldness of having such power was breathtaking.

He stopped following them as they entered the theater and stood on the street, thinking. His clear thinking quickly dissolved into near panic and the three pale people walking to the theater, in his mind, easily became three savage vampires hunting for him. Three vampires then became six, then twenty, then a hundred. How was he to know who was a vampire and who was not? He had to go. Go!

He ran back to the train station, completely disregarding his plan to rest in favor of quickly getting back to his home and that meant using the train. At the train station he found the waiting room empty and came back to his senses. Vampires on his trail and while it was a danger, it wasn't a disaster. After all, he had the book.

Alibori sat on one of the chairs in the waiting room and began to flip through the book for something he could use. One day, he would need a vampire to experiment on for what good was a book of magic about the dead when one couldn't do a little experimenting? When that time came, he would use the spell to capture one of them. At the moment, however, he needed to get to his home and secure the book. Later, he would capture one of the monsters.

He searched through the book for a short while before he found a spell that would do exactly what he needed. He went to do the room's only door and locked it. With his privacy ensured, Alibori spoke the words of the spell he'd chosen to use and, with no further fanfare, a demon stood before him. It was a far cry from the shadow creature he'd used before. Rather, the spell had summoned what looked like a handsome man who could have passed for human if one didn't look too closely at the eyes.

"You called?"

Alibori hesitated at the voice of the demon. It was smooth and quiet, but it made a tremble of fear run though him for no reason that Alibori could see. He pushed the senseless fear aside – he had summoned the demon and it was bound to obey his orders. There was nothing for him to fear. "I have a task for you. I'm being trailed and I want you to kill them."

The demon, to Alibori's surprise, strolled to the wall of the waiting room and examined it, as if it were of vast fascination. "Death really isn't my forte." He abruptly whirled around and smiled so broadly that Alibori thought he could see all the demon's teeth. "How about we make a bargain?"

"No. I said the spell; you're bound to my orders, now."

"True, but you do seem to have limited imagination. Death is so final. Pain is much more interesting. It can last for days… weeks… months. I have skills you can't imagine. Would you like your enemies to suffer?"

That sounded very nice. "Yes. Yes, that will be even better."

The demon seemed pleased. "Then we need an agreement. Don't you want to know what, exactly, I will do to them?"

"Yes."

"Then here lays our bargain: I will tell you exactly what I will do to cause pain and I will do it. In exchange, you will not interfere. No matter what the outcome of this turns out to be, you will not change your mind in order to grant mercy to whoever ends up in my hands."

"Done. I agree." It was a simple bargain. He had no intention at all of changing his mind and if a few vampires were put in pain then it was no tragedy. They were monsters. He listened, enthralled, as the demon took great pleasure in explaining the details of how he would torture his victims and, when he'd come to the gory conclusion, Alibori nodded with satisfaction. "Perfect."

"So glad you approve." The demon didn't actually sound very interested in Alibori's approval. "And how will I know these enemies of yours?"

And that was a problem. He didn't know who his enemies were or what they might look like. He had seen the three people he suspected were vampires, but they might not be the ones to come after him. He didn't even have any names to give the demon.

"I will leave a trap for them." He wrote his name on an envelope, a bit of boasting to show he wasn't afraid of his pursuers, and a fake address, as he didn't actually want any to slip by the trap and find his home. "I will leave this here for them to find and whoever opens it will sure to be the enemy. No one else in this part of the world knows me so no one of importance should be looking for me. When this is opened, you will take the evil creatures around you."

"Let us be certain we understand the terms of this agreement," the demon never stopped grinning. "Be specific in your order. I am rather literal."

"When this envelope is opened, you will take all the evil things within fifty feet of you and torture them just as you told me you would. Is that specific enough?"

"Yes. Seal the envelope and I will wait." The demon, without another word, faded into a heavy sort of fog and then, by some magic, slipped itself into the envelope.

Envelope sealed, Alibori unlocked the waiting room door and went out onto the platform. At the ticket booth, Alibori bought another ticket to get back on the train. With his ticket in hand, Alibori handed the seal envelope to the ticket clerk with the knowledge that anyone who wanted to find him would surely think to ask the train employees if they had seen him. "I am expecting someone to follow me. If anyone asks about Doctor Alibori – they might not know my name so they might simply give a description of me – give this to them." He handed over the envelope and was pleased that the clerk was not curious and didn't ask about the odd instructions. He just took the envelope and put it on his desk.

Trap laid, Alibori boarded the train and found a seat, comfortable with the knowledge that he'd let a demon loose in the world.

 **Alfred-**

Finding the train tracks in the storm was easier said than done. Alfred kept a tight hold of Herbert's hand, suddenly afraid that he would lose Herbert in the forest and then what would he do? He couldn't face the count without Herbert – how does one tell a vampire that you lost his son? – and, more importantly, Herbert was depending on him. Alfred had never really had anyone depending on him in such a desperate way.

Herbert followed him trustingly, as if Alfred actually knew what he was doing. He hadn't tried to get away from Alfred's grip even once. Alfred was thankful for the unseasonable warmth, but being ankle deep in slush wasn't much better than being ankle deep in snow. Another thing to be thankful for was that he could see. He wasn't sure how as the clouds were still heavy though the rain had stopped. He couldn't see terribly well, but better than he should have been able to walking around at night. He would have to thank the count better when they caught up with him. He didn't want the count to think he was ungrateful for such a gift.

As they walked through the forest that seemed to go on forever, Herbert would, now and again, bring up the subject that he definitely wasn't interested in men. He mentioned it several times, obviously nervous and worried about the topic. That was only natural as it would have caused great trouble for him, when he'd been human, if everyone around him knew he wasn't quite like everyone else.

Herbert said to Alfred, "I don't know what kind of person you think I am, but I'm perfectly normal. I have a girl I'm fond of. We were going to get married."

It was a lie. It was a very badly told lie, if Alfred could see it for what it was. It was an touchy situation. He didn't want Herbert to think that he wanted such things, but he wanted Herbert to remember him and, if truth be told, it hurt a little that Herbert had forgotten him. Forgotten him and no longer cared – not that Alfred wanted him to care. "You don't have to lie to me." Alfred looked at feet, deep in the cold mix of snow and slush as they trudged along. "I know you like men better than ladies."

"That's not true!"

"Herbert, you danced with me."

"I must have been drunk."

"You goosed me."

"Very drunk."

"You kissed me." It was a kiss on the hand, but still a kiss.

Herbert fell silent at that, but pouted. Finally, he rather weakly suggested, "Maybe I was so drunk I thought you were a lady."

If anyone else had suggested such a thing Alfred might have been insulted. As it was, he was reasonably certain Herbert was just grasping at straws. Really, considering some of the things Alfred had let other men do to him, Alfred was the last person who would judge about such things. He considered telling Herbert about his previous employment, but he worried that knowing that Alfred – whom Herbert was so dependent on – had been nothing more than a cheap streetwalker would only make Herbert nervous and uncomfortable. No. Better to keep quiet until Herbert got his memories back. And if he was wrong, the count would tell him so and they could tell Herbert then.

It was reassuring to know that someone as wise as Count Von Krolock was around as Alfred knew how stupid he was. If the count let Alfred into his family, then Alfred would always have someone smarter than he was telling him what to do. It was a comforting thought.

So Alfred shook his head and, as gently as he could, told Herbert, "You weren't drinking at all and you didn't smell like alcohol. I don't even know if vampires can drink anything but blood. I don't think you were drunk."

"I must have been. I would never do that sort of thing. Never." His voice rose as he spoke, desperation clear in his tone. "You have to believe me." Herbert stopped walking and Alfred was forced to stop, also, and turn to look at him. "Please? Don't tell anyone that you think I'm a… a…" His voice died away and Alfred realized that Herbert – confidant, swaggering, flirtatious Herbert – was terrified. Terrified of Alfred.

"I won't tell anyone," Alfred promised. He didn't like Herbert being afraid of him. "But I already know the truth so you shouldn't lie to me. I wouldn't hurt you."

Herbert went quiet for a time before he asked, "Are we… closer than friends?"

Alfred blushed. "No. We're trying to be friends, though. You said…" It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Herbert, 'You said you were in love with me.' But he didn't say it. Herbert was having a hard enough time without added THAT to the mix. Besides, Alfred lacked the courage to say it out loud. "You know, we're all alone out here and there's no one to get angry at you even if you shout how much like men. Don't be afraid of me. Please?"

Herbert regarded Alfred with deep consideration before he slowly nodded. "Can I really trust you?" He hesitated then very softly whispered, "I thought I could trust… my friend. He and I were close. Very close. But… he told people things. Private things. You wouldn't do something like that, would you? You seem very nice."

"I wouldn't. Herbert, I don't like doing those kinds of private things you're talking about. I do like you, quite a bit, I just don't like doing those things. But I would never go around spreading tales about you that would only make trouble for you. You really can trust me."

For the first time since he'd woken up after the lightning strike, Hebert gave Alfred a genuine, warm smile. "Thank you."

They found shelter, by some miracle. It wasn't what Alfred had expected or hoped for. The shelter was no cottage or barn, but rather a wagon abandoned by the side of a small dirt road they stumbled across. It had a wheel with broken spokes and looked a little worse for wear as it had clearly been abandoned long ago, judging from the weeds growing around it.

"It's perfect!" Alfred declared. The wagon had high sides almost four feet tall. He rushed to the wagon and started pushing on it. His slightly enhanced strength let him rock the wagon back and forth, but wasn't enough to tip it over. "Herbert, could you help, please? Just a little. You're stronger than I am."

Hebert did help and, in a moment, they had the wagon flipped over. With its high sides, it would make a perfect little box for Herbert to spend the day in. Alfred carefully examined it all over and didn't find any holes or cracks that would let light in. To be safe, he had Herbert fetch as many pine boughs as he could find and together they covered the wagon with them. Once finished, they tilted the wagon up just enough for Herbert to slip underneath into the safety of the darkness only moments before the sun rose.

Vampires, it turned out, didn't have to sleep the moment the sun rose. Herbert spoke to Alfred for a while, as Alfred sat on a conveniently situation rock. After he fell asleep, Alfred spent a long day in silence, trying to keep warm. He was hungry, but he'd been hungry before and he knew he could keep going for a while long. Hopefully, they'd find a village or town soon and then they'd find food.

When Herbert woke, shortly after the sun had set, he crawled out from under the wagon. His clothes were dirty and his hair was a frightful mess, so much so that Alfred was glad Herbert couldn't see his reflection as it would only make him more unhappy. As he got to his feet a paper fell out of Herbert's coat pocket and Alfred quickly picked it up before it became wet.

"What is this?" Alfred asked, holding the envelope.

Herbert shrugged and began to dust himself off as best as he could. The slush and snow had nearly ruined his clothes. "I've never seen it before. At least, I don't remember seeing it." He looked down at the envelope. "It's in English. I can't read English."

"Neither can I. I think the first letter is a 'D'."

"Well, I can tell you that it's not 'Herbert'; I do know how to read and write pretty well, but only in French. 'Alfred' starts with an 'A'. Do we know anyone with the first name that starts with a 'D'?"

"We know Angus and Sarah and the count – his name is Boian. We know Mister Lacroix and Mister Nicholas and Miss Janette." Alfred ran out of names after that. "None of them start with a 'D', do they?"

Herbert shook his head. "No. I don't know who it belongs to, then. The count is," Herbert paused and seemed to search for the correct word. "He is the master of the house, isn't he? We serve him?"

"He's your father," Alfred reminded him.

Herbert made a face. "I will not get used to that any time soon. I haven't got a father and whoever this count is, I hardly think I would feel any great love for a person who would kill me and turn me into a monster."

Alfred flinched at the acid in Herbert's words. "But you do love him and you're not a monster – not really. You and Angus, who is your brother, are the count's children and live with him at his castle. You also have a new sister named Sarah. She's very pretty and seems very sweet, but I don't know her very well. Mister Koukol is a servant at your castle. I think he runs the castle."

"And you?"

Alfred chewed on his lip. "The count said he wanted me to be part of his family but I have to decide. I'm not sure I want to be a vampire."

Herbert opened his mouth and touched a fingertip to one of his fangs. He pouted. "I don't think I want to be one, either."

"Well, you wanted me to be one. You really wanted me to stay."

Herbert wasn't put at ease at all. He scowled. "I wouldn't do that to someone. I'm hungry, again." He sat next to Alfred on the large rock. "Won't this hunger go away?"

Alfred looked at his wrist where Herbert had bitten him back at the cottage. It was completely healed and he didn't feel a bit tired from the blood loss. "Do you want some more?" He surprised himself with the offer. He never thought he'd have offered any such thing as Herbert had been far too eager to get his hands and fangs on Alfred since the moment they'd met and Alfred never could quite shake the fear that Herbert would get too excited and start grabbing and touching. But, Herbert needed him.

Herbert turned impressively big puppy-dog eyes on Alfred. "Please?"

How someone like Herbert, who always seemed so self-assured and who was so physically powerful, could look so pitiable, Alfred just didn't know. He hadn't been afraid of Herbert, but it had never once occurred to him that Herbert could be frightened or weak. Well, Herbert had been kind to Alfred and had tried to make up for their disastrous encounter in Herbert's bedroom, so Alfred would try his best to be helpful and reassuring. After all, he couldn't just leave Herbert. No memory of his family or his life and being in a strange place with a strange person? Alfred knew he'd have been terrified if he'd been the one to lose his memory, but he was reasonably confident that Herbert would have taken care of him in such a situation.

Alfred offered up his wrist.

Herbert's hands were cool and gentle when he took Alfred's hand. He stared at Alfred's wrist, hungrily. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"Just be careful not to take too much."

Herbert lowered his mouth and his lips just brushed Alfred's wrist when, completely unexpectedly, a figure flew out of the darkness and tackled Alfred. He was yanked unceremoniously away from Herbert and spun in a circle so fast that when the spinning stopped it took a moment until he could see straight and recognized who'd grabbed him.

Angus.

Angus gave Alfred a quick hug that was a little tighter than was properly comfortable, then released him and turned to face Herbert.

"Don't you hurt him!" Herbert tackled angus and brought him to the ground. Herbert tried to pin Angus, but it came as no surprise that it didn't work and Angus quickly had the upper hand.

"Bertie!" Angus grinned down at Herbert, pinned under him. He gleefully raised one hand to ruffle Herbert's hair. "I was worried for you and here you are getting all cozy with our Alfie! Shame! You should have flow straight away to find father and I." Though his words were scolding, the smile never left his face. He jumped off Herbert, but only long enough to gather up his little brother and cuddle him. Angus sat, cross-legged on the wet, cold ground and pulled Herbert onto his lap so Herbert's back was against Angus' chest and wrapped both of his arms around him, pinning Herbert's arms to his sides.

Herbert snarled and hissed and fought with every ounce of his strength. He didn't even seem capable of words. He thrashed and his fangs, having not retracted since he'd begun to bite Alfred, were out and made a serious attempt at getting at Angus.

Alfred overcame his surprise, at last, and called out, "Angus, wait! It's not what you think! He's been hurt. He doesn't…" He didn't have time to finish before Herbert landed a strike.

With quite a bit of wiggling and after throwing his head back hard his hit Angus on the nose hard enough to startle him into loosening his grip, Herbert managed to turn just enough to bit Angus' neck. Herbert bit deep enough to win a startled yelp from Angus.

"What's all this?" Angus recovered himself quickly. He didn't try to push Herbert away, but kept holding him even as Herbert drank. "Is my Bertie hungry?" He patted Herbert's hair just as the count had once patted Alfred's hair. Herbert seemed to lose all his fight the moment he tasted blood and became docile. He let Angus hold him as he fed, his eyes half-lidded. Angus endured Herbert's behavior gladly, but with confusion. "He hasn't acted like this since he was a fledgling. What's going on?"

Again, Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when a large hand landed on his shoulder. Alfred started and lurched away from the touch. He was nearly on his feet and ready to run when he realized that it was the count. He relaxed at once.

"What has happened?" Count Von Krolock asked, looking at Herbert.

"Bertie missed me," Angus grinned up at the count. "He turned playful the minute I turned up." He looked down at Herbert's filthy self, covered in mud and slush from their battle as well as Herbert's day spent sleeping on the ground. "Poor thing is hungry as a horse; went for a nibble the minute he could."

It wasn't quite like that, Alfred suspected, but he saw no point in suggesting any different to Angus who was clearly just happy to have Herbert back.

The appearance of Count Von Krolock stirred Herbert from his lethargic feeding. He pulled away from Angus and turned to blink up at the count. Very slowly, Herbert stood up. He looked confused and frowned at the count. He stepped back, away from both the count and Angus, who still sat on the ground, and went to stand near Alfred, as if having Alfred around gave him courage.

"You?" Herbert nervously asked the count. "I… I think I know you. Don't I?"

Count Von Krolock frowned. "Of course you do. What joke is this?"

Alfred spoke up, "No joke, sir." He went on to tell the whole tale of what happened during the storm and lightning strike and how Herbert had lost his memory. He told them about the storm bringing down a tree that destroyed the cottage and how they'd had to run for safety until they'd found their current hiding place. "We're really glad you're here, sir."

Herbert, strangely enough, didn't appear to agree with Alfred on that last part. He'd spent the whole of Alfred's explanation to the count and Angus just staring at the count with an empty expression that seemed entirely out of place on Herbert's normally animated face. The moment Alfred stopped talking, Herbert demanded, "Who are you?"

There was pity on the count's face when he gently said, "I am your father."

"You… you made me… this?" He gestured to himself. "You turned me from a human into a … a…"

"A vampire," Angus piped up from where he still sat on the floor. "Yes, Bertie, you're a vampire. Just like father and I." He grinned, showing off his fangs. "And we've got a mission so sit down like a good laddie and let father fix whatever's wrong with your brain."

Alfred opened his mouth to protest that there wasn't a thing wrong with Herbert's brain – Herbert was just a little confused. However, he didn't even get a single word out as Herbert, to everyone's immense shock, suddenly flung himself at the count, fangs bared and growling like a wild beast. His hands were stretched out before him, long fingernails like deadly talons. He'd moved so suddenly that Alfred hadn't even had time to grab at him. Herbert has his hands aimed for the count's throat, as if he would strangle his father, but, of course, it didn't work. The count back-handed Herbert and that single easy blow took Herbert to the ground.

'Hide! Hide!' Alfred scrambled to get away from the impending brawl so quickly that he stumbled over Angus and fell right on his backside. Everything in him screamed at Alfred to get away from the fight, the violence. He hated fighting. All his courage in letting Herbert feed from him and helping Herbert find safety vanished like mist in a strong breeze. He suddenly felt about ten-years-old, small and weak. He started to crawl away, but Angus grabbed him and held him tight.

"It's alright, pup," Angus told him, quite calmly. "Father won't hurt him."

That really hadn't been Alfred's concern. He knew the count loved his children and would go to great lengths to protect them and he knew the count was stronger than Herbert and could easily control the situation. The problem was the fighting. He hated the idea of them fighting. Fighting was terrible and frightening when it involved people he didn't know. That this fight was between Herbert and the count, both of whom Alfred was slowly beginning to trust and even respect, made the whole thing like a nightmare. They weren't supposed to fight enough each other! It was wrong and he wasn't strong enough to stop them or smart enough to say something to make them stop so all he could do was helplessly watch it play out.

Herbert didn't move for a moment. He lay on the floor where the count had put him down. Then he raised his head. His fangs were still out and his face twisted in some terrible mask of hate. "You did this to me! You made me a monster!" He was on his feet in a flash and, once more, launched himself at his father with every intention, it seemed to Alfred, to kill.

 **To be continued…**


	14. Ward

**A/N: To anyone who has asked about another fic of mine, Quilted Together: I have NOT abandoned it. I decided to finish On His Own first and then concentrate on Quilted Together to give it better attention. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed - I really appreciate it.**

 **Chapter 14: Ward**

Count Von Krolock, with terrifying ease, put Herbert on the ground. Though Herbert's attack had been efficiently thwarted, there was still fight in him and he struggled where the count put him – face down on the ground with the count's foot firmly planted in the middle of Herbert's back to keep him pinned. The count was decidedly unimpressed with Herbert's behavior. Alfred's explanation of amnesia had helped, but the count still regarded Herbert with a cross between amusement and worry. He waited like that until Herbert had stopped struggling. His attack on the count, only moments ago, had been entirely futile. He hadn't even put a hand on the count before the count put Herbert on the ground and kept him there.

"Have you calmed down?"

Herbert was almost vibrating with rage, but managed to turn his head enough to look up at the count. "Let me up!"

Something changed in the count's expression, though Alfred couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. His eyes seemed to soften, though his voice went a bit sharp. "You will be civil when you speak to me, young man! I will not tolerate disrespect!"

Instantly, Herbert went still and while he still looked sulky, he muttered, "Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

Alfred wondered how Herbert could not melt at the praise. Alfred always felt a little secret thrill when the count said nice things to him.

The count took his foot off Herbert's back and allowed him to sit up. Herbert looked a sight! He was wet and dirty from having slept on the ground under the wagon all day. His clothes were disheveled and there was a large tear on one of the knees of his trousers from fighting with Angus and now, to make it all worse, even his face had bits of slush clinging to it. A drop of water slipped off his nose. He looked worse than Alfred thought Herbert could look. For all that, it struck Alfred that Herbert was still as pretty as ever, even with his long hair in tangles around his face and smear of mud across one cheek.

Standing with Angus, Alfred started chewing his thumbnail, nervously. He just couldn't shake the habit. He stared at Hebert, then looked down at his wet shoes. He couldn't deny it any longer. Right or wrong, Alfred thought Herbert was very handsome.

It would have to be a secet.

If Professor Abronsius had lived to see that moment, Alfred knew he'd get a beating. Professor Abronsius didn't tolerate such goings-ons. Professor Abronsius would have surely beaten him black and blue for even daring to think another man was attractive.

Sitting in the snow and slush at the feet of Count Von Krolock, Herbert couldn't have looked much more pitiful. He wasn't happy, at all, but he managed to keep his glare off the count, which was good as none of Herbert's situation was the count's fault.

The count focused entirely on Herbert and knelt down in front of him. "I like good, polite children."

"I am hardly a child, sir!"

"You are my child," the count replied easily. "And while you may have forgotten the past several years, you are still my child."

Cautiously, Herbert shifted his eyes to look at the count, as if he were afraid to look directly at the man he'd just attacked so viciously. "Alfred said… he told me you said you are my father." Then he scowled blackly. "It isn't kind to lie! Especially to someone like Alfred! He is obviously very naïve and innocent to believe such a thing. I have no father."

If the remark hurt Count Von Krolock, he didn't show it. Rather, he smiled. "You are my child. In all important ways, you are my child." He reached out and paused only a moment when Herbert flinched, as if he was afraid the count would strike him. Then he put his hand against the side of Herbert's face and used his thumb to wipe away t he mud. Then he carefully drew Herbert into a hug, so slowly and gently that Alfred thought the count must have been afraid that Herbert would panic. Herbert did freeze for a moment and, though his eyes were a bit on the wild side, he didn't fight the embrace. "My good boy." The count stroked Herbert's hair. "Your poor head was rattled, but you are still my boy."

Alfred, watching the scene, felt strange. He was pleased for Herbert, of course, as the count was sure to fix everything for him. But, deep inside, he found that he was a tiny bit jealous. For the first time in a very long time, he wanted a hug. Alfred ruthlessly pushed that feeling away. He wasn't part of their family – not really. There was no reason at all for him to get a hug.

Count Von Krolock released Herbert and said, "We have much to discuss and little time. Has our Alfred told you of our mission?"

Alfred winced. "Sorry, sir. I was more worried about finding you and Angus. I didn't think… I am sorry."

As always, the count was calm. "No matter, Alfred. You did very well to get Herbert this far." He looked at Alfred for the first time since Herbert had attacked him and gave Alfred an approving smile that made Alfred feel warm all over. "I am very glad you were here to protect Herbert. If it weren't for you, I fear the sun would have claimed him. I'm very proud of you."

If Alfred had been a cat, he would have purred.

Funny how the count could say just a few words and make everything right with the world.

"Now," Count Von Krolock looked down at Herbert, thoughtfully. "I will explain where we are going and why. Also, though I expect our Alfred has been clever enough to tell you most of what you need to know, he wasn't with us in the beginning when you came to me and I took you in as my child. That part of the story falls to me. We must be fast; this journey will be better off completed as quickly as possible. Angus, take our Alfred for a walk. Ten minutes and then return."

Herbert was on his feet in an instant and blurted out, "No!"

The count raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"I want Alfred to stay." Herbert stood there with his hands balled into fists at his sides and cast a nervous, beseeching look at Alfred. "Please?"

Alfred wanted to stay. He didn't like seeing Herbert upset and, lately, he had been nothing but upset. But he just couldn't gainsay the count. He couldn't! So Alfred worked up a smile for Herbert that he hoped was reassuring and feared he had failed in the attempt. "Don't worry. You're safe. I absolutely promise he won't hurt you. And we'll be right back, won't we, sir?" He looked at Angus, who nodded silently. "See? Listen to His Excellency and everything will be alright. I'm sure he'll explain things much better than I can."

"There is another reason." Count Von Krolock set one of his large hands on Herbert's shoulder. "Our Alfred doesn't know why you came to me, Herbert. He doesn't know what your life was like in those early days. If he were to find out in this way, by overhearing a conversation, I think you would be very unhappy when your memory returns to you. That is something you should share when you are both prepared for it."

So Alfred walked away with Angus and only shot one concerned look over his shoulder to where they left the count and Herbert.

A short distance away, Angus led Alfred through the forest. "We'll be in England, soon," Angus said. "We'll be able to rest and get cleaned up, then. I don't care too much about appearances, but this is getting ridiculous." He looked down at himself with soft chuckle. "We're all wet and dirty and Herbert's going to be sulking when he realizes what he looks like. How are you feeling?"

Alfred hesitated at the question. "I'm alright, I think. I'm not even very cold." He looked at his soaking wet shoes and his trousers wet almost up to the knees. "Isn't that a bit odd?"

"That's father's doing." Angus smirked a little. "That little bit of blood he gave you makes you a bit tougher in little ways. If you let him take you all the way across, it'll be even more so. You look like a half-drowned kitten, but as soon as we get to England we'll get that fixed."

Alfred couldn't argue with looking like a half-drowned kitten as he was sure it was true. Even his new shoes and coat looked almost ruined. It nearly made him weep to see his new clothes – gifts from the count and Herbert – spoiled so badly. He had been so proud of them and the count must think Alfred didn't appreciate them. "I lost my hat." Alfred reached up and touched the top of his head, as if he might magically find the hat there. "It blew off in the storm."

"We'll get you a new hat when we get to England. I've friends in London and they'll be pleased as anything to have us as guests for a time. It won't be long, after all. We have that madman's address and London is the sort of place that if we can't find him, someone will know where he is." Angus gave a careless shrug and tilted his head back to look up at the stars. "He can't hide from us there, with so many eyes and ears."

That, Alfred well knew, was true. While he was fairly certain Angus didn't go hanging around the same neighborhoods that Alfred had grown up in, he knew that so long as there were people around, no one could really stay hidden. He hadn't even had any friends or even close acquaintances when he'd lived on the streets and even he had heard so many rumors flying around every day. Somehow, everyone had always known everything that happened to everyone else and they always knew when strangers came into the neighborhood.

But Alfred was more concerned with Hebert. "Will Herbert be alright? The count can make him better, can't he?"

"Oh, if anyone can, father can. Now, you shouldn't worry about a thing, laddie. There's not much you or I can do now, though it was a kindness you did when you gave Herbert some of your blood. If he remembered himself he'd be thinking of some naughty way to thank you. Oh, don't you look distressed. He'll behave. He's not normally as bold as he was when you met, but you do seem to bring out something daring in him."

It didn't sound quite right, though. Alfred hurried to keep his pace even with Angus' stride. "Oh, I don't know about that. When he woke up, I tried to keep him inside the cottage for the day, but he didn't want to stay. I even told him," Alfred hesitated at admitting such a thing, but Angus seemed so patient, so kind that Alfred just couldn't find it in himself to be afraid. "I said I'd give him a kiss if he stayed at the cottage. He wanted nothing to do with it." Alfred couldn't deny the hurt he'd felt. It was confusing, he didn't want Herbert to be grabby and kiss and stuff, but he didn't like the idea that Herbert disliked him. "I think… maybe Herbert was jut teasing about liking me when he said all that stuff before. Maybe he was just playing a game. If he meant it, he'd feel the same way now even without his memories, wouldn't he?"

With a deep laugh, Angus put a hand on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred was very pleased that he hardly flinched at all. He was getting quite used to people touching him without wanting something or wanting to hurt him. Angus said, "Laddie, he doesn't remember you anymore than he remembers the rest of us. How would he know that he loves you?"

"You're sure that's all it is? Before he said he loved me right away. What's different, now?"

"Now, he thinks he's a human servant and not the son of a powerful vampire lord. You trust me – when Bertie first came to us, he was a shy, frightening little mouse and it took him several years before he'd admit to preferring lads over lassies." Angus laughed, again, when Alfred's eyes went wide. "Hard to believe with how he was when you met him, isn't it? It took time for him to understand he was strong enough and had enough protection around him that he could be comfortable with himself – fancy clothes, jewelry, and longing after the pretty young men who might cross his path. He was safe and comfortable when you met him. Now, he thinks he's lost and alone and he's frightened. He's not going to let anyone see his vulnerable spots, not when that one particular vulnerable spot would have likely gotten him killed when he was a human."

It made sense, but logic didn't help Alfred's worry. "But you think he'll get his memories back? The count did some pretty wonderful magic to save you so he can help Hebert, too, right? After all, lightning can't be as terrible as the demon thing that was inside you. It's very dangerous, you know. Herbert was going to go out in the sun and he thought it was a good idea because he'd be able to see better."

Abruptly, Angus' stopped dead in his tracks. His habitual light-hearted expression slipped away. His eyes closed and a terrible shudder ran through his body, so powerful that Alfred could actually see him shake. "Laddie," Angus said when he had regained control of himself. "I can never thank you enough for saving my wee little brother from such a fate. To think he might have innocently walked into the sunlight and…ah! I canna bear to think of it!"

They returned to Herbert and the count shortly and neither looked entirely happy. Whatever they'd talked about, neither was willing to share. Just after Alfred and Angus rejoined them, the count announced it was time for him to work on Herbert's mind.

Herbert didn't want to lay down in the snow, but the count wasn't able to do his work with Herbert standing up. "I work with the sleeping mind, Herbert," the count explained. "You must asleep in order for me to see what is going on." So they managed to convince Herbert to at least sit (Angus threatened to knock him down if he didn't sit down) and the count knelt at Herbert's side. He put one hand over Herbert's eyes and the other hand on the top of Herbert's head. Then the count closed his eyes and it seemed to Alfred that the count might have whispered something as his lips appeared to move, but he couldn't hear anything. The forest was absolutely silent.

Herbert's eyes were closed when the count took his hand off them and the steady rise and fall of Herbert's chest showed that he was, indeed, peacefully sleeping. The count gently lowered Herbert until he was laying on the ground. Still, the count kept one hand on the top of Herbert's head.

It was a mystery what the count did when he worked his magic. Alfred, unlike Mister Lacroix, wholeheartedly believed that the count was exactly what he said – a powerful magician. He wanted to ask if Angus knew what the count was doing, but he didn't dare to speak for fear of breaking the count's concentration. What if he distracted the count and, as a result, the count made a mistake that would make it so Herbert could never remember his life? Alfred just couldn't bear doing to that to anyone, especially not to Herbert who, according to Angus, who had only found happiness after he'd been turned into a vampire. If he ended up thinking he was a human forever, he might never be happy, again. So Alfred stayed quiet and waited.

Finally, the count took his hand off Herbert's head and sat back. Herbert woke up instantly and sat up.

"There is nothing I can do," Count Von Krolock admitted, displeased. "The injury is physical, not mental. It will take time to heal. I can attempt to speed the recovery time, but it will take time."

The count fed Herbert. Herbert protested and fussed about the whole thing, but, as always, the hunger was too great and he gave in. The count managed to maneuver Herbert into a position that Herbert was reclining against him. All was quiet and peaceful as Herbert fed. His eyes drifted closed and, slowly, his head tilted to one side until it was resting on his father's shoulder.

It was such a tender scene that Alfred wondered how anyone could think vampires were monsters… then he remembered how savage and terrifying they could be. Even knowing that, he still watched them with envy. How lovely to have a family so obviously loving and warm… it was Alfred's greatest wish. Of course he'd had his mother and there was no question of her love – she would have moved mountains for him if she could have. But she was gone. She had been gone for a great long while, so long that it started to seem to Alfred that she was little more than a faded memory.

"And what's that look for, pup?" Angus nudged Alfred on the arm. "You look like you're ready for a cry."

"No." Alfred rubbed his eyes, but they were only wet because the wind was picking up and stung his eyes. He wasn't crying. "I'm alright. I'll be fine. Just…" How to ask such a silly question? Professor Abronsius would have laughed at him. Alfred was, as the Professor reminded him several times, far too old for such foolish sentiment. Still… "It just hit me – I'm starting to have a hard time remembering my mother. Do you think she'd be terribly angry with me?"

Angus looked at Alfred with a horrified expression. "Oh, lad… did she hate you?"

"What? No!"

"Then why would you think such a thing? Let me tell you, as sad as it is – memory fades. Nothing lasts forever. My mother had sung me songs when I was a wee little nipper, dozens of different songs. Now I can remember only one. It happens to everyone."

"Forgetting songs is one thing, but I'm afraid I'm going to forget her. There can't be anything much lower than a person who forgets their mother."

"Now there's a whole bag full of guilt if ever there was. You mind me – if your ma was as a good as you, then I think she'd understand and she'd be happy so long as you're happy. That's what ma's do."

Angus' words helped, quite a bit.

Not long after, the count and Herbert were ready to travel, though as Herbert didn't remember how to fly, he would need help.

"Angus, you will take Alfred, I will carry Herbert."

Herbert looked alarmed at the whole prospect, but didn't protest.

They were in luck, the coast wasn't far off and they reached it easily within the hour where they found the train tracks, again. A flight over the English Channel was next and Alfred found that all the more harrowing than all the other flying they'd been doing. He couldn't see the ground or trees under them. The water appeared to be black but for the occasional flash of moonlight reflected off the waves. The night was thankfully calm, but there was a strong wind, cold and biting.

Angus shouted over his shoulder to Alfred, "Just a bit further. We'll get you warmed up in front of a big fire."

Alfred pressed his face against Angus' shoulder. He didn't reply. He hated flying. Too high up, too fast… everything was too much. He had a hard enough time coping with life when it moved at a normal speed. Vampire speed was too much. So he held on and he trusted Angus not to drop him.

Ahead of them, the count flew with Herbert, a shadow against the deep purple of the night sky. Herbert was there, Alfred thought. He worried for Herbert, so helpless without his memories. For a few short hours, Alfred had felt so important taking care of Herbert, even though he'd been scared to pieces that he was going to say or do something wrong and make the whole situation worse.

They landed in a large park in London and Alfred, still getting used to his newly enhanced vision looked around. It hardly looked like night. With the light from the streetlamps, minimal though it was, it seemed the whole park was lit up. "I won't get used to this," Alfred muttered as he looked at the bare trees and the light dusting of snow on the ground. "Everything even looks so different, but I can't describe how."

Count Von Krolock sneered around them, even as he turned around and took time to absently straighten the collar of Herbert's shirt, dust off Angus' shoulders, and make an attempt to tidy Alfred hair with his fingers. "I have always detested London. A filthy, foul mess. It has not improved with the passing of years." If he noticed how surprised Herbert was by the fussing, he didn't show it. The count even went so far as to run his long fingernails through Herbert's hair to try and straighten it, but gave up after a moment. "I will need a hairbrush for this."

"I can tidy my own hair," Herbert protested.

But the count was not to be deterred. He looked Herbert right in the eyes and said, "My precious children will always deserve a little pampering, especially after have such a serious injury."

"The sun will come up, soon," Alfred said, looking at the town houses. "Are we going to rent a room for the day?"

Angus laughed and threw a companionable arm over Alfred's shoulders, much to Herbert's apparently displeasure. "Did you forget so soon? I have friends in London who will put us up for a few days and nights. The family owes me a favor and I'm sure they'll be happy to pay it this way - I'm a very pleasant guest, after all."

"Who are your friends?"

"Lord and Lady Cromsom. They're in London every winter, so I'm sure we'll see them at their townhouse."

Alfred felt lightheaded. Lord? Lady? He shot a nervous glance at the count, hoping that he would speak up and say they were staying elsewhere, but the count was more concerned with fussing over Herbert than Angus' plans. Alfred swallowed hard. It was hard enough dealing with Count Von Krolock and his sons, how was he supposed to content with more nobility? At least the count had proven to be understanding and accepting of Alfred's many failings. He didn't care that Alfred didn't know how to properly act around people of high station. These friends of Angus weren't likely to be so casual. Alfred, with his forehead furrowed, began twisting his fingers together. He was going to make a mess of things. Angus would get angry if his friends were upset and, if Alfred messed up badly enough, they might not be allowed to stay and Alfred just couldn't bear bringing such shame to the count or the thought that Herbert might not have a safe place to sleep during the daylight.

The home of Angus' friends was opulent. There was no other word for it. The house lay in the very best neighborhood of London. It was as stately as a house could be in the city. The front door was very tall as were the windows all facing to the street.

Alfred shifted from foot to foot. He didn't want to go in. He was certain he'd end up making trouble for everyone. "Sir," Alfred bold gave the count's sleeve a little tug to get his attention. "Sir, I think, maybe," because he wasn't going to give orders to the count. "It might be a good idea if you told Angus' friends that I'm your servant. They won't believe I'm any kind of nobility."

The count raised an eyebrow at Alfred, but before he could answer, Herbert, walking right next to Alfred, snorted. "They won't believe you're a servant, either. Believe me – I spent years working in service and you haven't got the look or manner of a servant. It would take ages to teach you how to be a servant."

Alfred's heart sank as they walked closer to the grand house. It was even bigger than Miss Janette's house where he'd met Mister Lacroix and Mister Nicholas. Herbert was right, naturally. Alfred knew he wasn't trained properly to be a servant and he wasn't dressed well enough, either. Why, if he'd had the chance to go into service instead of staying on the streets, he certainly would have taken a position.

A large hand slipped around Alfred's and, surprised, Alfred looked up to find Herbert holding his hand. He did it only for the briefest of moments before he let go, but he gave Alfred an encouraging smile.

And then they were at the house and Angus rang the bell.

They were shown in, even at such a late hour and the man of the house soon walked into the parlor to greet them. Though he must have been asleep when they arrived, he seemed genuinely happy to see them. He and Angus greeted each other warmly and Angus introduced everyone all around.

When it came time to introduce Alfred, the count spoke up. He put a hand on Alfred's shoulder and said, "This is my ward, Alfred."

Shocked, Alfred stared up at the count.

"Alfred somehow made his way to my home some time ago, alone and tired in a terrible snowstorm, and I took a shine to him. He's a good boy and, in the short time I have known him, he has done several deeds to benefit my family. I am as fond of him as I would be of my own child." Count Von Krolock spoke with a heavy accent, but his English was otherwise perfect and, as always, his voice was deep and comfortable.

It was about the nicest thing anyone had ever said about Alfred. Alfred shuffled his feet a little, but his awkwardness didn't stop the count.

"While Alfred hasn't the manners expected of someone of my family, he will learn. He is very clever and I am pleased to have taken him in." His hand tightened a little on Alfred's shoulder. "I would ask that you forgive any ignorance of manners as his upbringing had been rather… rough. He is learning."

"Of course, of course!" Lord Cromsom gave the count a cheery smile. "And it's a good deed you do for him. Charity is a virtue, after all. Well, you are a sight and I can't leave you standing around like this. Angus, your room stands ready for you. I'll have your family escorted to their rooms and while it's well after dinner time and not quite time for breakfast, if anyone is hungry, I'll have something brought up."

"Perhaps something for Alfred," Herbert spoke up for the first time since they'd entered the house. "He hasn't eaten for a while."

Alfred hadn't realized he was hungry until Herbert spoke and he found that he wished Herbert hadn't. Bad enough that he worried he would say or do something wrong and make Angus' friends angry – maybe even angry enough to throw them out! – but if he seemed like extra trouble and their hosts thought he was demanding too much food, then…

But their host happily agreed to have something send up before a footman, who appeared to have gotten dressed in a hurry, showed them out of the parlor to where they'd be staying.

"Come along, my boy." Count Von Krolock's hand patted Alfred's shoulder and pulled Alfred out of his thoughts. He urged Alfred to walk at his side as they went upstairs.

Alfred, with the count and Herbert flanking him with Angus ahead of them, walked silently, but there was a small smile on his face. The count had introduced him as family… said he cared for him like they were truly family. Surrounded by vampires or not, Alfred didn't think he could ever be happier than he was in that moment.

 **To be continued…**


	15. The Enforcer

**Chapter 15: The Enforcer**

Jasper had been searching for the book, the Mors Libre, since he'd learned of its existence many decades ago. When he'd heard of two human scholars on the trail of it, it had caught his attention. When he heard they'd both been in the territory of Boian, fledgling of Lacroix he took a closer look. When Boian suddenly took his clan from their home and made a mad dash across Europe with the young assistant of one of the scholars in tow as they chased the other scholar… Jasper couldn't resist. He went to investigate.

"What are you doing?"

Jasper looked at his partner, Vinnie. All Enforcers worked in partnerships for their own sake as their duty often ended in executing other vampires and such things were usually dangerous. "Just going out for a bit."

"Why? We have no orders from Her Honor."

"No reason, Vin. Just going to stretch my legs. I'll be back in a few hours." He certainly didn't want Vinnie to know what he was going to do. Vinnie was far too devoted to the Code and his obedience to Her Honor was near stifling; he would try to stop Jasper. So Jasper gave his unsuspecting partner and pleasant smile and walked out of their hotel room. There was no reason at all for Vinnie to know about the Mors Libre… or what Jasper planned to do with it.

 **Alfred-**

Alfred followed along with the vampires up to the rooms they were to use. The warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest from the count's kind words earlier faded enough for an uncomfortable awkwardness wash over him. With every step up the stairs passed sever portraits of men and women, down a hall carpeted with a thick rug and the small pieces of art set on little tables here and there along the walls he was made very aware that this was the home of the very wealthy and powerful – it wasn't somewhere he belonged.

The footman who led the way carried a lit candle, though Alfred knew the vampires didn't need it and that was proof enough that Angus' friends didn't know about vampires. Alfred even thought he would do perfectly well without the extra light as his vision seemed to have strengthened since he'd drunk the count's blood.

The footman led them all to separate rooms, advised them all that there were basins to wash in as well as clean nightclothes for their use. Their clothes would be gathered by the housemaids to be cleaned as soon as possible. Spare clothes would, naturally, be provided. Everyone was shown to separate rooms, though the rooms were all in the same hall, and, soon, Alfred found himself alone in the room he was to use.

Just as the footman had said, there was a nightshirt on the bed and a basin of water on a little table next to the bed. A cheery fire blaze in the fireplace. It was a lovely room. And, to make things even better, the obviously efficient staff had, as Herbert had requested, left a plate of bread and cheese and meat with a large mug of milk for Alfred. The food was excellent. Alfred closed the curtains and stripped down before he washed himself from head to foot, even scrubbing at his hair. By the time he was dressed in the nightshirt, he was very comfortable. The bed was just as nice as the one they'd let him use at the count's castle.

Despite all the comforts, Alfred was very aware that this wasn't… home. It took him by surprise to realize that when he thought of home, he thought of the count's castle and the little village. He thought of Koukol managing the castle and Madam Chagal's warmth. He thought of dusty old rooms and a magnificent library. He thought of stone walls covered with elaborate tapestries. Home was his room – HIS room – the room he'd been so generously given by the count. Home was back in Transylvania and he missed it fiercely.

There was a man in the room.

Alfred gasped and jumped to his feet. The man definitely hadn't been there a moment ago.

The stranger was very thin and no taller than Alfred, though he radiated menace in a way Alfred had only ever felt from Mister Lacroix. Somehow, Alfred knew the man was a vampire.

"Umm… hello?" Alfred wondered if he would have time to run to the door, but feared it would anger the stranger. "Can I help you? I think you have the wrong room. Were you looking for Count Von- " Alfred stopped talking the minute the stranger looked him in the eye.

"Sit."

Alfred sat on the edge of the bed and smiled up at the stranger. He felt very calm. Everything was fine. There was nothing to be worried about. Everything was just fine. His body was entirely relaxed and his mind felt pleasantly numb, as if he'd been outside in the sun on a hot summer day for just a little too long.

The stranger silently moved closer until he stood right in front of Alfred, looming over him. Normally, that would have terrified Alfred to have a stranger so close to him, but at that moment, he wasn't at all concerned about the man. He wasn't even concerned when the man leaned over him.

The man sniffed Alfred.

Alfred had a vague thought in the back of his mind that he ought to be upset about being sniffed, but he couldn't bring himself to fret. He smiled up at the man.

When the man spoke, his voice was rough, as if it were being dragged over gravel. "Where is the book?"

Book? It took Alfred a moment to get his thoughts moving, like a train gaining speed. "I don't know." He kept smiling, so happy to answer the question.

The man stared, his eyebrows drawing together with concentration. "Tell me where the book is!" His fangs were very long, far longer than Herbert's or the count's.

"I don't know." And he really didn't. Now, if the stranger asked who had the book or where Alfred thought the book was, then Alfred could definitely give a better answer! If only the stranger would ask the right question.

The man opened his mouth, again, but before he could say anything, the door opened and Alfred's vampires came in. Angus thumped in, almost stomping his feet and his face was frighteningly angry. Count Von Krolock strode in and, just behind him, Herbert slipped into the room.

The count simmered with rage.

While the count was still fully dressed, both Herbert and Angus were in the borrowed nightshirts and barefooted, though that did nothing to make Angus look any less intimidating.

All of a sudden, there was a lot of angry words and Alfred watched it all, still happy and quiet. He watched while Angus furiously said things about 'no right', 'he's blooded', and 'The Code' while the stranger answered with, 'investigation', 'caution', and 'Herbert'.

It was the mention of Herbert's name that shook something in Alfred. He felt like his mind started to wake up. It was a slow process, like wading through a knee-deep pit of mud.

Herbert nervously slipped around the other vampires quietly facing off in the middle of the room and crawled up onto the bed with Alfred. He shook Alfred's shoulder. "Wake up. Wake up!" Herbert hissed the words and kept looking back at the others, as if he feared to be attacked at any moment. "Alfred… you have to wake up!" He lightly slapped Alfred's face until Alfred blinked and was suddenly himself, again.

The three older vampires faced off, the count staring down the stranger and Angus shifting from foot-to-foot, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His eyes were hard and unforgiving. His lips were pulled back from his teeth, revealing his fangs. He looked ready to fight and kept glancing at the count every few seconds, as if waiting for a signal that would let him loose to do as he pleased to the interloper.

Alfred woke up half-way through their conversation and, he was so fixed on them that he didn't protest when Herbert held his hand. He was glad for the support.

The count was saying, "… he is Blooded. You could not have missed it; the scent of it will linger on him for several more weeks. Why are you here, Jasper?"

The stranger turned his head towards the bed where Herbert and Alfred sat together. "Your Herbert."

"Herbert is one of us – you can't doubt that! What threat is he to the Code?"

"A vampire who does not remember himself? Doesn't remember how to be secret? How can he be anything but a threat to our whole community?"

Alfred squeezed Herbert's hand when he saw how distraught Herbert was at being made the subject of the stranger's attention.

But the count only scoffed. "Herbert is no different now than when I first made him my fledgling! He may as well be a child. Has the Code changed since last I ventured from my home? Do Enforcers now hunt the young rather than the criminals who reveal our existence to humans?" His eyes narrowed. "Should I send word to Her Honor to ask about this new policy?"

The stranger sneered. "You question me?"

"I do. There has been no infraction by my family, though if you stay much longer the humans of this house are sure to investigate the noise. Justify your presence here or leave."

"It is imprudent to speak to me in such a way."

The count gave the stranger a little smile. "Perhaps. But you are here alone when everyone knows Enforcers always work in pairs. Where is your partner?" When the stranger didn't answer at once, the count's smile grew just a little patronizing. "I see. Alone and prowling around where you have no business to be? It seems to me that you are working on your own. Does Her Honor even know you're here?"

The stranger let out an animal-like growl and his eyes suddenly flashed to a terrible, burning red. "Are you threatening me?"

"Yes." Count Von Krolock folded his hands in front of himself. "You are obviously here without authorization which means you will have no protection from Her Honor. And even if you kill me where I stand, if Her Honor doesn't punish you, you will eventually have to face my sire. You know who he is."

The other vampire, the Enforcer, turned away. The red faded from his eyes. "You will regret this."

"I doubt it. Why don't you leave, now? My Angus may not be a match for you, but he is rather on the savage side and you won't get away from him without some damage if I let him loose."

The Enforcer took two large steps towards the window and threw it open and then he was gone.

With a roll of his eyes, Count Von Krolock went to close the window to keep out the winter chill. "How very dramatic. I wonder what his game is."

Alfred looked around at his vampires and asked, "What's going on? You said Enforcers wouldn't bother us if you bit me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No."

"Then it was me," Herbert said. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. Neither of you did anything wrong. That one was looking for an excuse to snoop around. But why?"

"He wants the book, I think."

Count Von Krolock turned to Alfred, sharply. "Oh?"

"He asked me about it, but I don't know where it was so I couldn't tell him. He did… something to me. He just looked at me and suddenly I felt very strange, like I was half-asleep or something. It seemed perfectly normal to have him in here and I wanted to answer him, I wanted to make him happy. I thought only you could do that."

"No. Any vampire with enough will-power is able to influence the mind in such a manner. It is not entirely reliable for the young but for the eldest of our people it is often a useful tool as they can make permanent changes to a person's memory. But Jasper asked about the book? He shouldn't have even known about it; we've spoken to no one about this."

"Would Mister Lacroix have told him? Or Miss Janette or Mister Nicholas?"

"Never." The count grew thoughtful and murmured, as if he were talking to himself rather than everyone in the room. "He knows about it, knows we pursue it, yet he comes here alone and without the authorization of Her Honor. He doesn't want her to know about it. How very suspicious."

But there was nothing to be done, then.

Count Von Krolock pulled closed the windows and locked them. "Alfred, he will not be back. The sun will rise shortly and he will not return before nightfall. You're safe." He pulled the long curtains closed, darkening the room but for the dying fire and the candle on the mantle. "Rest well. When I wake, we will make plans."

"Yes, sir."

Angus had a hard time leaving Alfred's room. He stared at the closed window, his lips pressed together in a thin, unhappy line. His whole body was tensed. But the count gave him a hard look and Angus, of course, obediently followed him out of the room. Herbert, too, left, though he seemed reluctant to let go of Alfred's hand and Alfred couldn't find it in himself to blame Herbert – the Enforcer had been just as terrible as Angus said they were.

Once he was alone, Alfred blew out the candle and watched the fire die out while he was huddled under a heavy pile of blankets. He did worry a bit about the Enforcer, but trusted the count when he said the other vampire wouldn't be back any time soon. Alfred was warm and comfortable and clean and it felt so marvelous that he thought the only way life could be made any better was if they were back at the castle.

He fell asleep like that and didn't wake for many, many hours. When he did wake, he felt more rested than he could remember. For the first time, he didn't wake up sore and hungry. He didn't wake up worrying about waking up to do chores for Professor Abronsius. His stomach still felt full from the late meal he'd been given and the bed was so soft that he lay there for a good many minutes, feeling quite lazy, until he finally got up.

His clothes were gone.

Frantically, Alfred searched the whole room, but his clothes were gone. The servants must have collected the clothes while he'd slept. It was very kind of them to clean his clothes, but he wished they hadn't taken his new coat. It was bad enough that he'd lost his hat in the storm, but if the coat was lost or spoiled, he'd never be able to forgive himself. After all, the count had paid for the new clothes and Herbert and Miss Janette had personally picked them out for him. The count would sure think he was ungrateful and that was the last thing Alfred wanted the count to think. And Herbert, when he remembered that he'd gotten the clothes for Alfred, was sure to be hurt if they were misplace while being washed.

Thankfully, whoever had taken his clothes had taken the envelope out of his pocket and left it on the mantle. At least he'd still be able to ask the count about it.

In place of his own clothes, Alfred found neatly folded clothes that were in such good condition that they seemed almost new. As he couldn't leave the room in nothing but the borrowed nightshirt, Alfred put on the clothes. The trousers were a bit too long as were the sleeves of the shirt, but otherwise the clothes fit well. He looked down at himself and wondered at how much of a respectable man he looked.

Still, he'd rather have the hat and coat Herbert had given him.

Once dressed – and he had to admit clean clothes felt very nice – Alfred threw open the curtains on the window. The day was well into the afternoon and the sun was shining.

Alfred winced at the brightness of the day and had to blink several times when the light actually hurt his eyes. It felt like he hadn't seen the sun in weeks.

He'd never seen this part of London, for all that he'd been born in the city. Before meeting Professor Abronsius, he'd never left the slums. He'd been born in a filthy hovel with no heat and an overabundance of insects and rats and had honestly expected to stay in such a place until his death. It was shocking to think that this place, this fine house filled with riches and food and fires on every hearth was only a few streets away from Whitechapel.

As Alfred stood there at the tall window, the most incredible thing happened. He looked right. There were quite a few people walking down the street, but one figure caught Alfred's attention as he walked briskly with a bag slung over one shoulder. Alfred frowned and squinted his eyes, trying to see the man just a little better and his recently sharper vision was strong enough to let him see the man at a distance away.

Doctor Alibori.

Alfred felt as if his heart stopped, for just a moment. He could only stand there and stare as Doctor Alibori walked towards the house Alfred was staying in and then walked right by.

Count Von Krolock would have to know. But Alfred knew the vampires had locked their doors to prevent any of the servants from accidently walking in during the day.

Alfred would have to handle the situation on his own.

The count wouldn't approve, but Alfred didn't see that really had much of a choice. He couldn't just let Doctor Alibori go when he was right there. And, after all, he didn't have to confront the man. All he had to do was find out where Doctor Alibori was going and then he could tell the count and the count would get the book back. It would work out very nicely. He could get it done while the vampires slept and what a nice surprise it would be for them when they woke up!

Alfred left the grand house quietly, only questioned by one servant he encountered and he told her he was merely going out for a walk. She nodded and said, "Yes, sir." How strange it was to be called 'sir'!

He followed Doctor Alibori very carefully, very quietly. He was so very focused that he was surprised when he turned a corner and found himself in Whitechapel. For a moment, Alfred froze. He was back.

He looked around at the dingy streets and houses and the smell of filth in the air. The people on the streets were dressed in dull, well-worn clothes and had been patched and repaired many times over. Overhead, ropes ran from building to building and clothing, freshly laundered, hung to dry. The cobblestone street was uneven. Rough-looking people went here and there, barely any of them giving Alfred as much as a glance. The rancorous laughter of children rang through the air and Alfred turned just in time not to get knocked down by a pack of little boys all dressed in clothes that were little better than rags. They were all thin and small, too young to do any real work and so had been left to their own amusements while their parents toiled away to make enough money to pay rent and, hopefully, buy food.

Alfred suddenly saw himself as a small child, running on those same streets years before his mother's death.

"Well, look who shows his face, again." Alfred turned and saw a face he hadn't seen in years. Horace was nearly ten years older than Alfred, but his thinning hair and pock-marked face made him look a great deal older. His teeth were yellowed and one, right in front, was a rotten black. He was very thin but for a protruding gut. "Where've you been, Cooper?"

"I got work," Alfred answered, faintly. Lying never occurred to him. "I went into service."

"I miss your service." Horace leered and took a step closer to Alfred. "You should have come back sooner."

Alfred stepped back, away from Horace, and wished he'd never looked out the window and seen Doctor Alibori. He stepped in a puddle and got his foot wet up to his ankle, but still didn't look away from Horace. "I – I don't do that THAT sort of service, anymore. I have respectable work." And he would NOT go back to doing THAT unless it was necessary, such as when the count needed money and Alfred had tried, with a disastrous result, to help Herbert earn that money.

"Oh, I think you will." Horace pulled a few coins from his pocket and showed them to Alfred. "A little bit more never hurts, though," he looked at Alfred's fine clothes. "Looks like your employer takes good care of you. Like a real gentleman, you are." He reached out a hand and lightly ran a finger down the lapel of Alfred's coat. "So fine for being in the slums."

Alfred kept backing away until, before he knew it, he and Horace were in an alley. He bravely told Horace, "I mean it – I don't do that kind of thing anymore and I don't want your money. I have to go." He tried to walk around Horace, but was stopped when his shoulder was grabbed.

Horace laughed. "Think you're so above me? Just 'cause someone's gone and dressed you up so nice? Maybe it's no respectable job you've got. Maybe you're just prostituting for one man instead of many."

The idea of it… that the count would do something like that to Alfred… it was vile! Alfred felt sick at the thought and embarrassed that anyone could think such a thing. Then, he got angry. Burning, furious anger… it threatened to suffocate him.

Completely ignoring Alfred's anger, Horace reached down and grabbed hold of Alfred's…

"No!" Alfred pushed Horace with one hand. Horace was much larger than Alfred and the push should have done nothing at all, but Horace suddenly flew backwards four feet until his back struck the brick wall of the alley. His eyes rolled back when his head hit the wall with a resounding 'thunk' and then he slumped to the ground in a pitiful lump.

Alfred, breathing hard with panic, stared at Horace, then looked down at his own hand. How? It must have been the count's blood. He'd said there would be changes. Horace was very pale. Alfred couldn't see any wound on Horace, but he had hit that wall very hard and he wasn't waking up.

'Did I kill him? What if he's dead? Dear God above – have I murdered him?!'

Slowly, Alfred inched his way over to Horace. He reached out and pressed his fingers against Horace's throat. Thankfully, he felt a strong thumping against his fingertips and knew that the man wasn't dead, yet. However, he didn't wake up. He didn't even twitch when Alfred checked his pulse.

Alfred stumbled away. He had no idea what to do. He knew he should keep going; finding the terrible book was the most important thing - the whole world depended on them finding it. But he wanted desperately to go back to his vampires. Alfred swallowed hard and took another step away from Horace. He should get help for Horace. As unpleasant as the man was, he surely didn't deserve to die because of Alfred.

But what help could he get? If he woke up and told anyone about Alfred's odd strength, it might bring trouble for the count. What if that Enforcer thought Alfred was breaking the Code and letting humans know about vampires? The day was nearly over. He would go back and tell the count what had happened and he would fix everything… if Horace survived his injury.

So, he turned and ran back where he'd come from. He sprinted several yards before he thought to take a short-cut he knew of. He ducked down an alley but, before he'd gone more than ten steps, his foot caught on something and he fell face down on the ground. When he looked up and saw what he'd tripped over, Alfred let out a squawk. It was gruesome.

A dead woman. She'd been murdered and left right there on the street. Someone had… they'd cut her. Mutilated. It was a nightmarish sight and Alfred felt his stomach churn and wanted to vomit. The woman barely looked human with what had been done to her.

Alfred scrambled to his feet, but, for a moment, he couldn't turn away from her. Her face was slashed up, like someone had taken a knife to her, but her eyes were untouched and those sightless, staring eyes appeared to be looking at Alfred.

Shaking, Alfred's only coherent thought was to get away. It was hardly the first murder in Whitechapel and certainly wouldn't be the last, though usually it was just a knife in the back or an out of hand drunken brawl. There was nothing Alfred could do about someone who was already dead, but he could do something about Horace. Within minutes, he was back at the home of Angus' friends.

Outside the door of his room, Alfred paused. He looked across the hall at the room Count Von Krolock had been given. He hesitated, then looked carefully around. There were no windows in the hall but for a single window near the end of the hall that was small enough that no direct sunlight reached the count's door. So Alfred went to the count's door and tried the door handle. It didn't move. Locked, then, from the inside. He noticed that there was clothes left for the three vampires, but left on chairs set outside the bedroom doors. That meant they'd all locked themselves in their rooms and Alfred could do nothing but wait for them to wake.

Disappointed, Alfred went into his own room to wait for the coming night with his heart filled with guilt and terror.

 **To be continued…**


	16. Confrontation

**Chapter 16: Confrontation**

Vincent (Vinnie) sat on the peak of a rooftop with his legs stretched out before him. England was ghastly in the winter, cold and wet without much of the cheery snow that other places enjoyed. Vinnie had never much cared for England which was why he had been so very put out when his Enforcer partner, Jasper, had insisted they need to go to London.

"Why?" Vinnie had asked when Jasper had said he needed to go to England.

"Just a little research. You don't have to get involved; it's my business. Think of it as a vacation."

Considering that they had been enjoying a very nice winter in southern Italy, Vinnie wasn't impressed by his new vacation. Still, Jasper was his partner and had been for nearly three centuries. As an Enforcer, Vinnie knew very well that one didn't simply abandon one's partner. That was one of the first rules a vampire was trained in when they were accepted as an Enforcer: one's partner was an extension of oneself. They lived together, worked together… everything. So if Jasper wanted to go to England for whatever reason, they would go.

In London, Jasper disappeared for a night and didn't return until the next night. He refused to tell Vinnie where he had gone or what his business was. It was suspicious and troubling. He knew they didn't have orders from Her Honor to investigate any wrongdoings or terminate any Risks. There had been a question about Boian, child of the formidable General Lacroix, but that issue had, apparently, been settled. It was good because if Boian or any of his young had been judged to be a risk to the secrecy of the vampire community and had to be terminated then it was entirely likely that they would, sooner or later, face the General and Vinnie had no desire to do that at all. He would follow orders, of course, but a confrontation with an angry General Lacroix wasn't something anyone with sense wanted.

So… what did Jasper want in London that he didn't want Vinnie to know about? One wasn't meant to keep secrets from one's partner – it wasn't done. It wasn't safe for anyone. They were the ones responsible for keeping the entire vampire community safe from humans and they couldn't afford secrets that might cause tension between partners.

So Vinnie sat on the rooftop and thought. None of Jasper's behavior made any sense.

Even as Vinnie sat there thinking, he saw a shadow fly through the air and waited until Jasper landed on the rooftop next to him.

"We have a mission," Vinnie said when Jasper moved up to stand next to him. "I don't know what you're doing here, but we can't stay any longer. Her Honor has work for us to do in Spain. We need to leave."

Jasper put hand on Vinnie's shoulder. "I'm not leaving. I can't – not yet."

"You can't disobey Her Honor. She'd kill you if she found out."

"Yes." Jasper paused and his hand tightened on Vinnie's shoulder. "I know. I suppose I can't let anyone tell her. I'm sorry, Vinnie."

"What-?" He was cut off when, without any further warning, a horrified pain exploded in his chest. He looked down at saw the wooden stake sticking out of his chest. He looked up at Jasper, shock and confused and hurt. "Why?"

"I can't let anyone stop me. I'm so close to finding it."

Vinnie reached up to grab the stake that was killing him. He hadn't the strength to fight. And even if he had, Jasper held him firmly.

"Don't fight it. You're dying. I'm sorry it came to this – I really did like you. But I can't let that book slip through my fingers, again."

Book?

Jasper kept talking. "I've been looking for it for years. Then I heard two human scholars were looking for it. Then one of them died in Boian's territory. Soon after, I heard rumor that Boian and his people were on a dash across Europe. What else can it be? The book has been found and Boian is after it. I won't let anyone else have it. With that power," Jasper whispered. "Her Honor will bow before me!"

Vinnie had no idea what Jasper was talking about. The world began to darken. Sounds became muffled, like his ears were stuffed with wool. The pain, thankfully, ebbed away. He was tired. So tired.

What book could be so tempting to make an Enforcer betray his partner and his vows of obedience to Her Honor?

It was too late to worry about it. He could feel his body slowing. Everything felt pleasantly numb. He blinked, still looking up at Jasper. The stars were out, bright as diamonds.

Vinnie closed his eyes one more time before he died.

 **Alfred-**

Alfred stayed in his room for the rest of the day. Occasionally, a maid knocked on the door to ask if he needed anything or would like something to eat. Alfred thanked them, but he couldn't bear to eat with his stomach rolling uncomfortably and didn't want to do anything until he spoke with Count Von Krolock. So he hid away and hoped their host wouldn't appear because he had no idea how to talk to the high-society type unless they were snapping orders at him.

And so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, trying and failing not to think about what had happened. He'd never imagined being so strong that a simple little push could kill someone. Yes, he had eagerly looked forward to being strong enough to take care of himself, but he'd never really thought about the fact that defending himself might involve hurting someone else. Alfred wanted to throw up when an image of Horace crumpled on the ground out of his wits flashed through his mind. Then he thought about the other dead person, all cut up and covered in her own blood… Alfred moaned and closed his eyes. He wished he'd never seen Doctor Alibori walking down the sidewalk. He wished desperately that he'd been smart enough – just once he wanted to be smart enough to do the right thing! – to wait until dark and tell his vampires what he'd seen.

"The count," Alfred groaned out loud. "Is going to think I'm so stupid! I should have waited. A smart person would have waited. Anyone else would have waited and wouldn't have hurt someone." Alfred choked back a sob that threatened to burst out of him. Under the guilt of what he'd done and the horror of the mutilated murder victim he'd stumbled over, was the absolute terror that the count would realize just how worthless Alfred was and would abandon him.

Considering how desperate he'd been to get away from vampires when he'd first made his way to the castle in the mountains, it was almost comical how badly he didn't want them to get rid of him.

"Alfred?"

Surprised at the voice, Alfred jumped to his feet. Herbert stood in the doorway.

Dressed in his dull colored clothes and with his long hair, once again, cut short rather than gathered tidily at the base of his neck, Herbert stood as if he was frozen and looked puzzled. He walked into the room and closed the door behind him.

"This is… familiar." Herbert's voice was barely more than a whisper. He stared at Alfred with a baffled expression. "Have we done this before?"

Alfred was confused only until he looked down and saw that he was only wearing a nightshirt. Herbert walked into Alfred's room when Alfred was only barely dressed and barefooted, just like when Alfred had accidently walked into Herbert's room when Herbert was in a similar state. Alfred stood up and pulled a blanket off the bed to wrap around himself.

"Something like this did happen before," Alfred told Herbert. "I walked into your room when… when you were getting ready for a bath. It was an accident; I didn't mean to and I am sorry. I walked in when you were wearing only a nightshirt so maybe that's what you're remembering."

Herbert's eyes lit up. "Yes! I remember that. It's not entirely clear, but I do remember. I think… we danced?"

"Yes." Alfred pushed aside his misery to be happy for Herbert. "This is wonderful! You'll remember everything soon!" Alfred was surprised to find himself smiling at Herbert, but he truly was happy. While Hebert without his memory behaved in a very correct and proper manner, Alfred found that he rather missed the confidant, flirty Herbert. It was unnerving to see Herbert nervous and worried because he really didn't know who he was. "Do you remember anything else?"

"Sometimes. It comes back in flashes. I remember Poppy." He gave Alfred a shy smile and patted his coat pocket. "She's sleeping, again. I remember visiting a village and Angus… there was a woman he kept grinning at. I know he's been trying to court her for ages, but she's married. He's absolutely besotted with her. The count… father… he used to read to me to distract me from the hunger when I was younger. He told me just now that the hunger isn't bothering me so much now because my body is used to the hunger, even if my brain doesn't remember everything." He gave Alfred a smile. "Father thinks I remember everything by tomorrow night."

Mention of the count brought the reality of the previous day back to Alfred and he lost all his good humor, though he was pleased for Herbert. "His Excellency is awake?"

"Oh, yes. He's getting ready to go out. No time to waste finding this thief who took the book. It does seem very important. You'd think father and Angus were going to war the way they're going on."

"So… he's busy?"

"No longer." Count Von Krolock walked in with Angus following. Clearly he'd heard the conversation even through the closed door. He, too, was dressed in his modern clothes and had trimmed his hair short enough not to be considered unusual. "We are leaving shortly. Now that we've arrived the hunt must begin in earnest. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can get home. The world is a good enough place to visit, but I want my mountains." He turned his sharp eyes to Alfred. "What is wrong?" He stepped closer to Alfred and reached out, putting a hand on the top of Alfred's head. Alfred felt those ominously long fingernails digging through his hair. "Did you not sleep well?"

The concern was nearly too much and Alfred felt the stress of the whole day so strongly that he wanted to collapse from the weight of it. He couldn't have lied about the whole nightmare if he'd tried. "Oh, sir," Alfred whispered, miserably as he wrung his hands and hunched his shoulders so deeply that he was almost bent in half. "I think I killed a man today."

The whole room was deathly silent.

That was it, Alfred knew. The end. The count wouldn't' want a trouble maker around and killing someone was surely about as much trouble as a person could possible make. He wouldn't want his beloved children around someone who just went around thoughtlessly shoving people into walls and killing them. And it wasn't as if Horace had really done anything so very horrible – he'd just touched and gotten a little pushy.

The count had promised that vampires didn't have to kill people and that after he turned Alfred into a vampire he would stop Alfred from killing anyone until he learned to control himself. That meant that the count would have done the same for Angus and Herbert and that meant Alfred was the only murderer among the lot of them. The count was going to throw him out and he'd never again have the warm, comfy feeling of 'belonging'. The mere thought of not having his vampires around, being alone, was enough to start pulling Alfred down into despair.

"What did he do to you?" The anger in the count's voice shocked Alfred right out of his misery. The count moved even closer to Alfred, looked him up and down and carefully studied his face. "Are you hurt? Did he touch you?"

Angus was growling softly in a corner of the room with his arms wrapped around himself as if he were trying to control himself. He sounded like a mad dog and his eyes glowed an angry red. Red eyes on a vampire meant anger, Alfred had come to understand. He'd never been truly frightened of Angus until that minute.

"I… I'm not hurt."

Herbert started rubbing Alfred's back. "Are you sure? Oh… some people are just horrible. What did he do that you had to defend yourself for? Did he threaten you?"

Alfred thought back to the whole frightening encounter and was ashamed. "I knew him when I lived here. He thought I was still a…" Alfred's voice dropped to a whisper. "A whore. He wanted… he tried to… he had money." At the increasingly unhappy look on the count's face, Herbert's distress, and Angus' obvious fury, Alfred hastened to reassure them. "He was going to pay me. He always paid. But I didn't want to and he wouldn't listen and then he grabbed my… he touched… I only wanted him to stop. He wouldn't stop. I told him I didn't do that anymore, but he just didn't listen. I didn't want to hurt him."

But the count let out a great sigh and gave Alfred a hug. "I am sorry you had to go through that."

"He just kept walking at me and I backed away but I didn't know I was walking into one of the alleys. And he said ugly things and I just wanted to get away. I pushed him and he just went flying! I didn't mean it! He hit a wall and there was blood… and I really didn't mean it. I've never killed anyone before." He paused, then cringed with another stab of misery. "But I did! I killed Professor Abronsius. If I'd been faster I could have gotten him to the inn faster and he would have lived. I'm sure he would have. You could have met him – he really was a great man." True, he may not have always been terribly nice, but he had taken Alfred away from Whitechapel, so he would always be a great man to Alfred.

The count gave Alfred a crooked smile. "I will reserve judgment on the character of a vampire hunter."

Alfred froze. "Oh. Yes. There is that. Well, if he had met you and knew you were a person, he wouldn't have hurt you. I'm sure of it. But I should have been faster…"

"None of that, young man." Count Von Krolock patted Alfred's arm. "Accidents happen – terrible accidents, sometimes. – you can never know what might have happened if this happened or that happened. You did your best to save him and no one could fault you for doing your best. His death was not your fault."

"You really think so?"

"I know it to be true. You are not the type to do anything other than the best of your abilities. I will not have you blaming yourself for Abronsius' death."

It was a relief to be told it wasn't his fault.

"However," Count Von Krolock continued. "I would like to know what you were doing in Whitechapel. I had thought that would be the one area we would avoid to preserve you from unpleasant memories."

Alfred gasped and jumped to his feet. "I saw him! I'm sorry, I got upset and forgot – I should have told you that first. I saw Doctor Alibori. I thought I should follow him so we'd know where he was going." At the count's unhappy expression, Alfred deflated a bit. "I thought it was the right thing to do. No?"

"I am not angry with you. No need to look so distressed."

"Angus, go and check on this man who so rudely put his unwelcome hands on my youngest."

"My pleasure."

So Alfred told Angus where he'd left Horace and then told him about the dead woman who'd been so badly cut up. Later, Angus reappeared and Alfred looked at him, pleadingly. "Well? Was he… dead? Did I kill him?"

Angus put a reassuring hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Trust me – when I found him, he was alive. You didn't kill him."

The dreadful weight on Alfred's head suddenly evaporated. "But what about the woman? I should have spoken the police, shouldn't I have?"

"That one," Angus looked at the count. "Was another victim of the infamous Jack the Ripper. He's in all the newspapers. But, you don't have to worry about the police, Alfred. They were there investigate, too."

They headed out to find Doctor Alibori after Alfred was reassured and could put aside his worry. The count gave both Herbert and Alfred strict instructions not to confront Doctor Alibori alone, should the situation arise. They were coming along because he didn't want to leave them alone with an Enforcer in the area, not because he wanted to put them at risk. Any confrontation would be done by himself and Angus.

They had the address Alfred had given the count earlier and they knew Doctor Alibori was in the area. Angus' friend made sure they were all appropriately dressed before they left his house, lending them hats, gloves, and whatever else they need to better blend in. He'd been remarkably generous and understanding at the unusual guests. Three out of four of his guests hadn't eaten a bite since arriving and they'd requested no interruptions while they slept during the day. He asked no questions about anything, not even how long they planned to be his guests. Alfred wondered at that, but he didn't ask. Angus trusted the man so that was all Alfred needed to know.

They walked in a procession with the count leading the way right to Whitechapel where Alfred had last seen Doctor Alibori.

"I know the area really well," Alfred assured the count, very proud to help where he could. "I'll lead the way."

"Thank you, Alfred." If the count's smile was a little condescending, Alfred didn't pay it any mind.

Alfred walked just ahead of the count to get them through Whitechapel as soon as possible as he felt sure no gentleman like Doctor Alibori would actually live in the slums.

The count decided that he wanted as much information about Doctor Alibori as possible as they really didn't know anything about his personality or temperament. He had Alfred ask around. Alfred spoke to a few people he recognized from when he lived in Whitechapel, but while some of them seemed to know Doctor Alibori from a description, no one actually knew him.

"I could try getting some information," Angus offered.

"I hardly think you'll fare better than Alfred who knows the people here. They likely won't even speak to you," the count said.

Herbert said, eyeing a rough-looking laborer strolling towards them, "I'll try. People like talking to me." He straightened his coat and stood a little straighter as he walked towards the man.

While they watched, Herbert and the stranger talked. It seemed to Alfred that Herbert was a bit too friendly and the stranger was much too bold in how openly he admired Herbert.

"Someone's jealous," Angus ruffled Alfred's hair. "You're pouting, pup."

"I'm not jealous," Alfred said, defensively. "That man shouldn't stare at Herbert – it's rude." Alfred crossed his arms, sulkily, even though he knew he had no right to be upset. Herbert was just trying to get information and, if he did fancy someone else, that should be fine. Alfred didn't want to do the physical, touching sorts of things that other people wanted to do when they were in love. Herbert did want to do those things. So, even if Alfred did love Herbert – not that he would admit such a thing – it would be completely unfair to expect Herbert to have a relationship with someone like Alfred when he could easily find someone who would give him what he wanted. It made Alfred feel a bit sick to think of Herbert doing that sort of thing with other people and spending time with them and laughing with them… but Herbert should be happy and while Herbert had been rather determined with his attempts to win Alfred over, Alfred firmly believed Herbert couldn't possibly be happy with someone like him.

"Frank," Herbert indicated the stranger when he rejoined Alfred and the others. "Said our man is well-known as a crack-pot and has been hanging about the slums for a while. He lives two streets over and it is the address you gave us, Alfred." He said the address and the count beamed at Alfred. "Still," Herbert said. "He didn't really know Alibori. Seems the man has less friends than a fox in a hen house."

On they went.

Eventually, they came to a street that, while it was a far cry from the street Angus' friend lived on, it was a good deal nicer than the slums. The streets were clean-ish and the people weren't dressed in drab rags. Abruptly, the count stopped walking and stared intently at one of the houses. There was nothing special about the house; it blended in with the others around it very nicely.

"This is it," the count announced with a triumphant voice. "We're finally here." He glanced up and down the street. They were alone. The street was entirely empty so late at night. "The _Mors Libre_ book will be inside."

"Thank you."

All four of them whirled around and found they weren't as alone as they'd thought. The vampire Enforcer, Jasper, stood behind them. He didn't say another word, but seized hold of Count Von Krolock by the shoulders. The two vampires instantly had blazing red eyes and their fangs out as they growled like animals. Both men fought to hold the other away from them while also craning their heads forward as they tried to bite the other. All at once, Alfred didn't know if it was the count or the Enforcer who'd done it, both men flew up into the sky and disappeared into the smog. A harsh swear broke the silence as Angus launched himself into the air after the count and the Enforcer.

Herbert and Alfred stared after them before Herbert gave himself a shake and dubiously said, "I should help."

"You don't fly well, yet," Alfred reminded him. "The count will be alright. He's the strongest person I ever met."

The Enforcer wasn't the only problem, though. Alfred's breath caught when he turned his head and saw Doctor Alibori standing in the doorway of the house Count Von Krolock had said Doctor Alibori lived in. The aging doctor stared up at where the count and Angus and the Enforcer had disappeared to.

Doctor Alibori turned to look at Herbert and Alfred. He didn't show any recognition at all when he looked at Alfred – he'd completely forgotten that Alfred even existed.

Alfred was perfectly happy to be forgotten by such a man.

With a little laugh that seemed barely restrained from something hysterical, Doctor Alibori said, "Vampires. Real vampires." His grin was almost maniacal. "Finally!" His eyes fixed on pretty, elegant Herbert.

Alfred most definitely didn't like the way the man was looking at Herbert and had an urge to grab Herbert by the arm and run away.

Herbert snarled and took a threatening step towards Doctor Alibori.

"Watch yourself!" Doctor Alibori said, easily. "You're here for the book, aren't you? How are you supposed to get it if you kill me?"

Alfred glanced at Herbert and saw the angry, frustrated look on his face. He looked up at the sky, hoping the count and Angus would miraculously return. They didn't.

Doctor Alibori said, "The book is in my home. If you want it, you'll come quietly and peacefully. You won't even have to hunt for it; I'll bring you right to it."

"But - " Alfred started to say, but he was rudely cut off by Doctor Alibori.

"I wasn't talk to you! I certainly don't need a useless thing like you getting underfoot!" But then he stopped and looked from Alfred to Herbert, and then back again. "On the other hand… perhaps you would be useful in guaranteeing good behavior."

"No!" Herbert snapped. "I'll go with you. There's no reason for him to get involved." He looked sternly at Alfred. "Go back and wait for the others. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Doctor Alibori shook his head. "No. No, I don't think I want any trouble with you and your reaction just now assures me that this ruffian," he gestured at Alfred, "will be an excellent way to ensure your good behavior." Doctor Alibori gestured towards his house. "Do come in."

Alfred froze. Every survival instinct he had, every harsh lesson he'd ever learned, screamed at him to run away - but he couldn't leave Herbert and he knew from the grim expression on Herbert's face that he was determined to get the book. He would go with Doctor Alibori and Alfred knew that wasn't at all a good idea. He thought of Angus standing witlessly in the forest, singing, and the shadow thing that had had to be drawn out of him. The count wouldn't approve of them going with Doctor Alibori. He might even be angry – he'd specifically told them both not to confront Doctor Alibori!

With a roll of his eyes, clearly impatient with Alfred's reluctance, Doctor Alibori said, "If you don't come in, you won't see the book."

"I won't have Alfred involved!" Herbert protested.

As much as it terrified Alfred to think of going against the count's orders and making him angry, he really didn't see as he had any choice. Herbert was determined to get the book and the idea of staying behind while Herbert went with such a dangerous man… it was unthinkable. Alfred couldn't do it. So Alfred looked at Herbert and told him, "It's alright. I'll go. I won't let you go alone."

 **To be continued…**


	17. Justice

**Chapter 17: Justice**

 **Herbert –**

It was a trap.

Of course Herbert knew that walking into Doctor Alibori's house was a trap. It couldn't be anything else. What reason could a vampire hunter in possession of a magical book concerning the dead possibly have to give said book to a vampire? So Herbert knew, when he walked into the house of Doctor Alibori with Alfred walking steadfastly at his side, that they were walking into a trap.

The trap was one he would walk into willingly, but if he'd had his ruthers, he'd have Alfred stay outside. After all, they needed the book and he couldn't turn down the opportunity to get it just because Doctor Alibori scared the willies out of him, but that was no reason to endanger Alfred.

Herbert was hungry, though. He was always hungry. Doctor Alibori would make a good meal. However, as far as he could remember, he'd only ever drunk Alfred's blood and the blood of the count, both of whom had volunteered it willingly. To take someone's blood without their permission… he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it. No matter what he did – take the man's blood or just knock him unconscious - he knew he couldn't do it in such an open place as the street as someone might see and Count Von Krolock had made sure Herbert understood how dangerous that was. He would wait until they were safely in the house and then attack.

The moment he stepped over the threshold of the front door, Herbert was instantly weak and sick. He staggered inside the house before he came to a stop and felt as if he couldn't walk another step. It felt like there was an enormous weight pressing down on him and a glance around the room showed the reason why. There were crosses hung on every wall along with long, braided strings of garlic. Alfred shouted and ran to Herbert's side.

Poor Alfred… he looked at Herbert and around at the room they were in with great worry.

Doctor Alibori closed the door behind them and Herbert heard it lock with a sharp 'click'.

Then, at the sound of that 'click', Herbert's memory returned.

It happened in a great flare, like terrible lightening flash which, considering how his memory had been lost in the first place, did seem rather fitting.

It was rather a shame his memory hadn't come back just five minutes earlier, really. If it had, he never would have led Alfred into the house. If he'd had the benefit of his memories and experiences, he would have known that it was too big of a risk to take, even for the book. Instead, he would have merely waited outside for his father and brother to return and then they could have made a sensible plan.

 **Alfred-**

The room was guarded. Even a brief look around showed Alfred that there were crosses mounted on every wall and so much garlic that Alfred nearly gagged at the smell. When Doctor Alibori closed the door behind them Alfred saw that that door, too, had been decorated with a cross. There were no windows and the only other door leading out of the room also had a cross on it. In the center of the otherwise empty room, a tiny table stood with the familiar book, the _Mors Libre_ , on it.

Herbert let out a strangled gasp. His face tightened with a look of clear pain.

"Are you alright?" Alfred asked.

Herbert shook his head. "This place… it's bad."

"Only monsters would fear simple pieces of wood." Doctor Alibori commented idly as he walked around Herbert and Alfred and went to stand next to the book. He pulled a little cross from his pocket and set it on top of the book, effectively making it impossible for Herbert to touch. "I've designed this whole room to be a prison for one of your kind. No windows and blocked doors so you can't escape. If any others of your kind manage to get in they'll be similarly imprisoned. Tell me – do you think any females might arrive to take the book? I would so like to… examine a female vampire." He said it with such a foul, vile 'want' in his eyes that it frightened Alfred. He would NOT be telling Doctor Alibori about Sarah or Miss Janette!

Herbert swayed on his feet, weak and ill from all the holy objects and the overpowering stench of garlic.

"Can you do it?" Doctor Alibori curiously asked Herbert. "Can you take the book? It's right in front of you."

Herbert did try. He reached out a hand, but it was as there was some invisible shield between him and the book. He couldn't force himself to put his hand less than six inches from the book. Finally, he let his hand fall back to his side. He told Doctor Alibori, "That thing is evil. You don't know what you're dealing with."

"Yes, yes, thank you for the warning," Doctor Alibori told Herbert, dismissively. "How fascination – you really are repelled by holy objects. I had wondered if it was a myth. Show me your teeth."

Herbert shot Doctor Alibori an offended look. "That's rude!"

"You can't take the book unless I give it to you," Doctor Alibori reminded him. "Do as I tell you or you won't get it."

There was something so very wrong with that logic that even Alfred could see it. Alfred could take the book. Despite having the count's blood, Alfred wasn't yet a vampire. He didn't feel a bit weak from being in the room. He could grab the book. In fact, even if Alfred wasn't there, Herbert could have easily just brought in any human off the street and asked them to bring the book outside to him. So what was Doctor's Alibori's plan?

When Alfred reached for the book, only to have Doctor Alibori snarl, "Don't try it. You're not nearly so valuable to me as this one." He looked back at Herbert with an expression of covetous greed.

But Alfred just had to try! After all, he was strong, thanks to the count. He could do it! So Alfred lunged towards the book only to have Doctor Alibori strike him on the side of the head. It wasn't a hard blow so much as it knocked Alfred off balance and he fell. The pain wasn't as terrible as the sudden realization that the strength the count had given him had chosen a very bad time to wear off. The count had warned Alfred that it wouldn't last, but the timing couldn't have been worse!

Alfred looked up in a daze in time to see Doctor Alibori pull a paper packet from his pocket and went to Herbert. He poured a gray powder from the packet onto the palm of his hand. He raised his hand in front of Herbert's face, then blew on the powder, forcing it into Herbert's face like a great cloud of dust.

Herbert coughed and spluttered and tried to turn his head enough to get him away from the powder, but it wasn't enough as the powder was so fine that it billowed around his head before dissipating into the air. Herbert's face went slack. His whole body seemed to relax. He remained standing, but his whole upper body went completely limp and his knees nearly buckled.

Then he straightened up, but there was something… wrong. His eyes seemed flat – dull. It was as if there was no life in them at all. He stared straight ahead with no expression on his face. If he felt any weakness from all the crosses and garlic, he didn't show a bit of that weakness in his current state.

"What have you done?" Alfred demanded of Doctor Alibori. He went to Herbert and touched his arm, but there was no response.

"Perfect," Doctor Alibori said. He looked very pleased with himself. Then he raised his voice, just a little, "Do you have a name, vampire?"

"Herbert Page."

Alfred remembered all too well the graphic descriptions Professor Abronsius had given him of what he'd planned to do with vampires if he'd ever gotten his hands on one – cut them up and keep samples of their flesh in jars in his office. He would have dissected them which, he'd told Alfred when Alfred felt sick at the idea of cutting people up, wasn't something to be squeamish about as vampires were already dead and weren't real people.

It still made Alfred slightly ill to think about it.

And now, Alfred felt all the more sick as Herbert was in the clutches of Doctor Alibori. Herbert was definitely a real person.

Doctor Alibori walked around Herbert as he spoke to him, questioning about this and that and Alfred knew they were sunk. Herbert told Doctor Alibori everything he wanted to know- told him where they lived, about the count and Angus, told him that vampires had a community… everything.

"Stop it! Herbert, be quiet!" The terror of the Enforcers - one was still fighting with the count – made Alfred desperate. If they learned that Herbert had said so much to a human, they'd be out for his head! "You have to stop talking!"

"He can't." Doctor Alibori was almost gleeful, by that time. "That book really does have the most wonderful little spells and how to mix that powder was just one of them. Your vampire is now mine. MINE! He'll do whatever I tell him to do." He looked at Alfred with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Want some proof? Vampire, squeeze his throat until he passes out."

And just like that, Herbert's hands were around Alfred's throat. He squeezed and it was so easy for him even though Alfred struggled to free himself, frantically pulling at Herbert's arms. Alfred's lungs burned. He couldn't draw a single breath. The world grew dark around the edges of his vision. His head felt curiously light, as if it were filled with cotton fluff. Alfred watched Herbert's impassive face as he lost all strength and the world faded away. All was darkness.

Then he could breathe, again. Alfred was on the floor and choked and coughed and took several deep breaths to appease his still hurting lungs. There were tears in his eyes when he was able to open them and he had to wipe them away before he could see Herbert, still as a statue, standing over him.

Still, Alfred wasn't afraid of Herbert. Herbert was just as much of a victim of Doctor Alibori's as Angus had been when he'd been insensible with that shadow thing in him. Doctor Alibori was using Herbert like anyone else would use a pistol or a knife; he was nothing more than a weapon to Doctor Alibori. Alfred slowly got up onto his knees, then pushed himself to his feet.

"Do you understand?" Doctor Alibori asked, without looking at Alfred. He ran a hand over Herbert's hair and Alfred felt an almost overpowering urge to strike Doctor Alibori because he knew without a doubt that Herbert wouldn't want the man touching him. Herbert, in his state, did nothing. "He's mine," Doctor Alibori said. "He will do absolutely anything I say." He turned his head and grinned at Alfred. "I could tell him to defile you and he'd do it. Want to try it?"

No. Alfred certainly did not, but he'd had forced himself to pretend to enjoy such things in the past and he could do it, again. He could definitely do it if it meant buying more time to figure out how to save Herbert. And it was Herbert, so Alfred would know that there was nothing malicious in it. It wouldn't truly be Herbert who did such a thing, but Doctor Alibori. In fact, Herbert would just as much of a victim as Alfred – maybe even more so as Alfred could at least fight back and try to escape where Herbert was completely helpless. Did Herbert even understand what was happening to him? Was he awake behind those empty eyes or did he sleep. Alfred hoped Herbert was asleep; there was no reason at all for Herbert to be subjected to such things and he'd never done anything like that unless it was entirely willing and happily. Poor Herbert would be devastated if he were forced to touch Alfred!

The abhorrent notion seemed to vanish from Doctor Alibori's mind the moment he'd said it as he, thankfully, didn't pursue the idea. Instead, he went back to admiring Hebert. "He's going to stay mine, now. The spell was most clear – someone who loves him must die to free him from it and who would love a monster like this?" Apparently delighted at his own power, Doctor Alibori roughly grabbed Herbert's arm and shook him. "I have a vampire puppet!"

 **Poppy-**

The world shook unpleasantly and it woke Poppy from her sleep. She was supposed to be sleeping; the world was cold and that meant time for the long sleep. Yet, she kept getting woken up by silly things like storms and absurd flying and too loud voices. So she peaked out of her Herbert's pocket to see what the disturbance was.

There was a man roughly shaking her Herbert.

Poppy was enraged at the mistreatment. She surged out of Herbert's pocket and ran up to the stranger's hand where she bit it as hard as she could. The stranger cried out and abruptly whipped his hand around, throwing Poppy off.

She was flung through the air before she hit something hard.

Pain.

She hoped her Herbert was safe.

And then there was darkness followed by… nothing.

 **Alfred-**

Poppy didn't move. She'd struck the wall with a hard 'thunk' and fell lifelessly to the floor.

Alfred felt sick. His throat closed up. Slowly, he turned and looked at Herbert.

Herbert shook his head. He put both hands up to his head and let out a low moan before he finally looked up and, thankfully, he was himself, again. His eyes were bright and clear and while he was still weakened by the crosses and the garlic, he was himself, again. He appeared to be weak, again, but his eyes went immediately to Poppy and he let out a pained wail. The anguish on his face was heartbreaking. Herbert went to Poppy and got down on his knees to gently scoop her up off the floor.

"Poppy? Honey? Wake up." Herbert stroked his thumb over Poppy's head and held her close to his chest. "Please… Poppy…?" But Poppy didn't wake. The grief on Herbert's face twisted into something furious and hateful when he turned his head and looked at Doctor Alibori. "You killed my Poppy!"

"Fascinating," Doctor Alibori commented, blandly. He put a hand to the collar of his shirt and pulled out a cross on a chain and let it hang outside of his shirt. "An animal's death was all it took to break the spell. Who would have thought a beast would… well. No matter. Now with that creature gone, you won't have that shock to wake you a second time." He pulled another little paper packet from his pocket.

Enraged, Herbert tried to get back on his feet, but he was still weakened and couldn't seem to force himself up. His bared fangs were proof that if Doctor Alibori came within reach, Herbert would strike. He wasn't too weak to bite.

And then the ceiling caved in.

With a great crash and a shower of plaster and wood, a large hole opened up in the ceiling, through which Count Von Krolock and Angus jumped down into the room. They landed on the floor in front of Herbert. But, of course, they were as badly affected as Herbert was by all the holy crosses and were weakened the moment they entered the room. Angus staggered to Herbert, put a hand on his shoulder and cupped his face with his other hand. Clearly, he was making sure Herbert was as well as could be in such a situation. Count Von Krolock stood between his sons and Doctor Alibori. He looked ready to attack, but even Alfred could see the strain on his face and had to marvel that the count could stay on his feet when it obviously caused him pain.

The addition of two more vampires shook Doctor Alibori. He looked from one to the other then whipped out a pistol from under his coat.

Alfred panicked.

The vampires were all weak, almost helpless… he had to help. So, before Doctor Alibori could even take aim, Alfred launched himself at the man. He grabbed Doctor Alibori's gun hand with both hands and tried to wrench the pistol away, but Doctor Alibori had a free hand and took the opportunity to deliver a powerful blow to Alfred's stomach that took the breath from him. Still, he held on as he knew the vampires were depending on him. What else could he do? They needed him. So Alfred fought for control of the pistol. When hitting Alfred failed to make Alfred release the pistol, Doctor Alibori abruptly stopped pulling against Alfred and, instead, swung his hand forward and bashed Alfred in the forehead with the pistol.

With stars dancing in front of his eyes and an almighty pain that made his ears ring, Alfred went down, again. He couldn't see straight when Doctor Alibori grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to his feet and it took a moment for his sight to right itself.

"So, you'd fight for them? Abronsius really picked a stupid one when he picked you, didn't he?" Doctor Alibori gave Alfred a shake, still holding him by the hair. "Can't even defend your masters? What a useless bit of baggage you are!" Something small and round as pressed against Alfred's throat and he realized it as the barrel of the pistol.

Helpless, Alfred went very still. He was going to die. A look at his vampires showed that they were all afraid. They were afraid for him. For HIM! As always, when he was surprised by some small kindness from his vampires, Alfred felt a surge of warmth. It struck him then, really hit him hard, that he was loved. He wasn't just needed or tolerated - he was truly loved.

Herbert's eyes flickered down momentarily, but it was enough for Doctor Alibori to follow his gaze. He let out a little gasp, then laughed. Alfred looked down to see what was so amusing when his life was on the line.

In the struggle, something had fallen from one of Alfred's pockets. The envelope Herbert had given Alfred just after he'd lost his memory. The envelope had fallen to the floor and lay there. The room was silent for a moment, until Doctor Alibori barked out,

"Pick it up!"

With the pistol pressed close to the side of Alfred's neck, he didn't dare disobey and, honestly, he didn't see any reason to disobey. It was only an envelope and if it picking it up might keep Doctor Alibori from pulling the trigger, he would be happy to do it. It was awkward, to bend over, with Doctor Alibori at his back and the pistol digging into his neck, but Alfred managed it and soon stood up with the paper in his hands.

The vampires didn't move. The count was still and calm while Angus looked as if he were struggling with himself not to attack. Herbert looked as if he were moments away from a either joining Angus in an attack or panicking.

"There's no need for this," Count Von Krolock tried to reason; his voice was controlled and composed. "The boy has nothing to do with any of this and you can hardly need him for anything."

Doctor Alibori snorted. "Of course I don't need him. I don't need three vampires, either. Three of you are too troublesome. I can get another lone vampire, later." He smirked and looked at the envelope Alfred held. "This should take care of the three of you and then I can dispose of the boy." He snapped at Alfred, "Open it!" When Alfred didn't immediately do as he was told, Doctor Alibori jabbed him roughly in the neck with the pistol. "Do as you're told – open it!"

With a single, hurried move, Alfred tore open the envelope.

A black mist, remarkably similar to the one Count Von Krolock had evicted from Angus back at the castle, floated out of the envelope. The mist whirled lazily around the ceiling for a moment, before it abruptly coalesced into the form of a man and stood in the center of the room.

A shove on the back from Doctor Alibori pushed Alfred away from the murderous doctor and he stumbled to a halt only inches away from the stranger. The person or thing or whatever it was, delicately took the envelope from Alfred's hands.

The stranger peered into Alfred's face before he reached up and gave Alfred a pat on the top of his head. The count had patted Alfred on the head, but even though the stranger didn't hurt Alfred, his touch didn't have any of the warmth or affection the count's did. Alfred shied away from the touch as he would the touch of any unfamiliar person, but the stranger just kept smiling and didn't look a bit offended.

The stranger's smile was more than a little disconcerting.

"Such a good boy," the stranger's voice was like a rumbling purr. "Almost angelic." He leaned closer to Alfred, as if to whisper a secret. "I can see your soul. It's very pretty. Sadly, it's a little too good for me. I can't take you with me. You didn't want to open the envelope, did you?"

Dumbly, Alfred shook his head.

"I thought not. Such a good boy wouldn't open things meant for other people and this," he held up the envelope, "clearly, wasn't meant for someone like you. I'm looking for someone evil." His voice was full of eager anticipation and he drew out the word 'evil' as if it were a particularly tasty treat. He looked first and Herbert and then at Angus, but neither of the held his attention at all. Even when he cast his eyes at Count Von Krolock, he appeared entirely disinterested. Finally, he looked at Doctor Alibori. "You."

Doctor Alibori's face went slack. "What? No!"

"I am only following your orders. Do you remember your exact words? I do. 'When this envelope is opened, you will take all the evil things within fifty feet of you.' That IS what you said. You also mentioned torture so I will, of course, be certain to obey your orders." The man began to advance on Doctor Alibori.

"I order you to stop!" Doctor Alibori shouted.

"I'm afraid you can't. That was another part of our bargain. 'No matter what the outcome of this turns out to be, you will not change your mind in order to grant mercy to whoever ends up in my hands.' There is no changing your mind, now." His smile grew wider. "Someone should have warned you about making deals with devils."

Doctor Alibori stumbled backwards. It was like watching a slow-motion chase as the stranger kept a steady, easy pace moving towards his prey and Doctor Alibori tried to get out of the way. He fumbled in his pocket for the key to unlock the door, but he couldn't seem to find it and his eyes were locked on the stranger. "The vampires! You're supposed to take the vampires!"

"Vampires?" The stranger was so surprised that he stopped walking and looked over at Alfred's vampires, as if he were considering the vampire family. "What makes you think they're evil?"

"But…"

"They are hungry, not evil. You, however, you are deliciously evil. You murder for your own enjoyment, though you justify it by telling yourself it is for 'science'. You despise your fellow man and think them worse than the dirt under your feet. You are so incredibly self-centered that you are happy to do whatever it takes to get what you want. You have murdered multiple innocents for the sake of your own pleasure. Yes, you are delightfully evil, far more so than the vampires in this room."

Like a snake, the stranger's arm shot out and grabbed Doctor Alibori by the throat. It was impossible. The two men stood well more than eight feet apart and yet… it happened. The stranger's arm had stretched, as if it were made of rubber. Then, the arm retracted and dragged Doctor Alibori across the room until he was right at the stranger. The stranger's smile was painfully wide; Alfred could see the man's molars! No human face could move in such a way. But the man seemed to be in no pain and spoke perfectly well even with his mouth pulled so out shape.

"Come along. It's time for us to go," the stranger languidly wrapped an arm around Doctor Alibori. Then another. Then… another? The arms stretched out and ended up tying around Doctor Alibori like terrible ropes until he was bound to the stranger and no amount of fighting and struggling could free him. He yelled and swore and even begged, all the while, trying in vain to wiggle his hand close enough to the _Mors Libre_ to grab it. It was no use. The book was too far away and the stranger was too strong to fight against.

It was the most amazing thing and, somehow, was a great deal more terrifying than vampires. Alfred hadn't even been so frightened when he'd first seen Herbert's fangs, the proof of his vampirism. He had to slap a hand over his own mouth to stop himself from screaming. Alfred crawled across the floor to Herbert, who also watched the bizarre encounter. Alfred grabbed Herbert's arm and pulled him into a corner of the room, as far from the two other men as he could. Alfred pulled several of the nearest crosses off the wall and tossed them away to give Herbert at least a little comfort.

Doctor Alibori's face twisted with something between rage and horror and… they were gone.

Just like that – the two men were gone.

 **To be continued…**


	18. Staked

**Chapter 18: Staked**

"Alfred," Herbert started. "Are you alright?"

Alfred didn't answer. He looked to where Doctor Alibori and the stranger had been, then at the count and Angus, both of whom, like Herbert, were still weak and unable to stand as they were surrounded by crosses and garlic. His mind suddenly went whirling around faster than a cyclone with memories of Herbert getting stuck by lightening, the frightening encounter with Mister Lacroix and all the more recent, terrible events. He felt faint. With all the danger finally over, it all seemed to pile onto his head at once. He went quite cold and shaky and, without thinking further than the idea that everyone was all safe, Alfred lurched forward and threw his arms around Herbert in an clumsy hug that ended up with Alfred's face pressed against Herbert's shoulder and, rather than a easy embrace, his hands had grabbed roughly at the back of Herbert's coat. It was awkward and uncomfortable and Alfred couldn't let go for a long while.

"Alfred? Dearest?" Herbert patted Alfred's back. "It's alright. Everything's fine, now. You're trembling." Herbert slipped his arms around Alfred and returned the hug.

After several long minutes Alfred loosened his hold and sat back, giving Herbert some room. He sat on his knees in front of Herbert and set his hands on his lap. "Sorry. I'm sorry. How stupid to panic when all the danger is over."

Herbert grinned and winked. "Sweetheart, don't apologize to me! You've made a very trying journey very enjoyable. And you are far from stupid."

Alfred blushed. "I'm so happy you're feeling better. I was very worried for you."

"And you took very good care of me." Herbert put his hands on his knees, almost mirroring Alfred, and leaned a little closer to teasingly whispered, "You even offered me a kiss."

Alfred looked down at his lap. His throat tightened up, but when he looked up at Herbert through his shaggy hair, Alfred felt such an incredible happiness to have Herbert whole and healthy and safe. "Herbert…"

"Yes, darling?" Herbert reached out to Alfred, then seemed to think better of it and drew his hand back to himself.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but…"

Herbert suddenly looked very worried.

"I want to give you something. Something I never gave anyone else." His swallowed hard. Then, before he could lose his nerve, Alfred leaned forward, again, and kissed Herbert right smack on the lips.

It only lasted a second before he pulled away and looked back down at his knees as he waited for some kind of reaction from Herbert until Alfred began to fear that Herbert was cross with him. And why shouldn't he be? Alfred had been adamant in the fact that he didn't want to 'play games' with Herbert or anyone else. A kiss surely must have been entirely unexpected and it wouldn't be unthinkable for Herbert to suppose Alfred had been lying the whole time for some reason or was just being difficult or…

"You said you'd never given one away before?"

Alfred bashfully nodded. "It's my first kiss."

"But… your previous… ah… occupation?"

"People paid me to do things, but kissing wasn't one of those things." Alfred wrinkled his nose with disgust at the idea of kissing one of his previous customers. Ewww. "You got my first kiss." Then Alfred finally forced himself to look up. Herbert didn't look angry. "Was it very bad?"

If Alfred didn't know better, he would have thought Herbert was blushing. "No! Not at all. Really. It's was great kiss!"

"As heartwarming as this is," Count Von Krolock broke in. "Alfred, be a dear and do something about the crosses as well as the garlic. I would be most appreciative."

"Ah! Yes. Yes, sir, of course!" Alfred quickly got to his feet and made quick work of the crosses by pulling every one of them down. He then pulled down the ropes of garlic and piled all of the paraphernalia in the far corner of the room, as far from the vampires as he could. He covered the small pile of stuff with his coat to put it out of sight. "I can't open the door, Doctor Alibori locked it. There's a big cross on the door and it's nailed on. I'm not sure how to get it down."

"No need." Count Von Krolock stood up; apparently just getting the crosses away from him was enough. The count eyed the large cross on the door with displeasure, but said, "It is bearable with all the smaller ones cover." He gave Angus a hand up who, in turn, helped Herbert to his feet. He looked Angus up and down before Angus clapped him on the shoulder.

"Stop worrying for me, old man. I'm well enough. What was that thing? That thing looked like man but appeared in a puff of smoke. It never smelled like anything I've ever encountered. Obviously wasn't human."

"A demon, I suspect," the count sounded almost bored as he turned his attention to Herbert. He took Herbert's face in his hands and peered deeply into his eyes, then began to turn Herbert's head this way and that before he pushed Herbert's sleeves up and examined his arms. "They are rather bothersome creatures. I do not suggest you have any dealings with them." He gave Angus a stern look, as if he were worried Angus would run off to start summoning his own demons, then started to feel Herbert's scalp with his long fingers. "Demons have a habit, I am told, of finding loopholes in whatever bargain they have struck or, if they are summonsed and trapped by a human, finding loopholes in the orders they are given so that whoever they are dealing with ends up in a very bad way." He took his hands off Herbert's head and asked, very solicitously, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better!" Herbert tapped the side of his head with his forefinger. "It's all in working order, father. I'm quite well, now." He turned an adoring look to Alfred. "I'm better than ever, in fact."

Alfred blushed.

"Excellent!" He gave Herbert a pat on the arm then looked at Alfred. "And you, pet? Are you injured? That was a very trying affair for such a very young man."

"I'm alright." Alfred was very pleased by the concern. He came to the conclusion that the lovely squirming feeling, the warmth he felt in his heart every time the count was kind to him, would never fade away. He was glad for it. He didn't want the feeling fade, it was simply too nice. "Sir, what happened to that Enforcer?"

"Jasper? Angus and I managed to chase him off for the moment, but I don't believe he's gone at all. We'll have to finish our business quickly before he comes back."

"Yes, sir. So, what do we do now, sir?"

The count turned to look at _Mors Libre_. "We destroy it. Alfred, take the cross off it, please."

"Yes, sir." Something in Alfred's gut rebelled at the thought of destroying a book. He put it down to the time he'd spent with Professor Abronsius and the old man's giddy delight in books. Still, he wouldn't question the count's judgment and he certainly wouldn't act against him. He had just reached for the little cross resting on the top of the book when some movement caught his attention and he looked up. The hole in the ceiling and roof of the building that the count had made gave Alfred a clear view on the night. He also had a clear view of the Enforcer, Jasper, peering down at them.

Jasper's hands gripped the jagged, wooden edges of the hole the count had made. His mouth was wide open, fangs exposed, and his eyes were a burning, blistering red.

A hand grabbed Alfred's arm and he was roughly yanked backwards just as Jasper dove through the opening in the ceiling. Angus had grabbed Alfred and, though he kept his eyes firmly on Jasper, gave Alfred a shove that propelled him towards Herbert. Herbert wordlessly caught Alfred, then pushed him into a corner of the room and stood in front of him, defensively. Count Von Krolock strode to face Jasper, putting himself between his sons and the enemy.

Jasper seemed to ignore them all, at first. He went straight for the book, but froze with his hand in midair above it when he saw the cross sitting so innocently on the top of the book.

The count attacked. It was a terrible fight and one that looked to be one-sided until Angus dove into the fray. Together they battled the Enforcer until, during the mad struggle, they bumped into one of the candelabras that lit the room and it, and the dozen lit candles it held, was knocked over. It just happened to fall directly on the _Mors Libre_. The book's ancient, dry pages, took light at once and burst into flame. There was no save to it. Within seconds, it was little more than a pile of ashes.

Everyone stared.

Count Von Krolock allowed himself a pleased smile, but Jasper was anything but pleased. His face went deathly still before he raised both hands above his head and brought them down with a slam on the little table that had held the _Mors Libre_. The table instantly smashed apart and fell into a pile on the floor with the ashes of the _Mors Libre_ fluttering down upon it like gray snow and the candles, some still burning, scattered around it.

Jasper's whole body heaved with unsuppressed rage. He was at the count in an instant. He dragged the count to the floor next to the broken table and the remains of the _Mors Libre_ as easily as if the count were nothing more than a rag-doll. Angus let out a primal scream as he rushed in to help his father, but a careless backhand by Jasper was all it took to send Angus back so hard that he bashed into a wall. It seemed fury gave Jasper extra strength. Herbert tried to help, too, but he met with the same result, though he was bashed into Angus rather than a wall.

Count Von Krolock was on the ground on his back, furiously fighting to get Jasper off him, but in a moment so terrible that it seemed to move in slow-motion and, at the same time, happen too fast for anyone to stop it, Jasper snatched up one of the broken legs of the little table and shoved it through Count Von Krolock's chest.

Alfred had no way to fight, not a single weapon in hand. And then it struck him. He bravely shouted, "If you kill His Excellency you won't get the book!"

Jasper finally got off the count. He spun around to face Alfred and there was no nightmare Alfred could imagine that would have frightened him quite so much as Jasper's face did in that moment. Jasper took a step away from the count, advancing upon Alfred.

There was nowhere to run to, Alfred knew. The doors were all locked tight. He could only stand there and wait for the inevitable. As he waited, though, he saw Angus and Herbert scramble to their father's side. Herbert yanked the stake out of his father's chest and Angus began to feed the count with his blood.

Jasper laughed. He gestured at the pile of ashes on the floor. "What will you do? Bring it back from the ashes?"

"I have perfect memory," Alfred insisted. "And I read every word of that book! I can make a whole new book for you!"

That stopped Jasper cold. It also made Count Von Krolock, with a little drop of Angus' blood still on his lips, stare at Alfred, aghast.

"A new book…" Jasper said the words hungrily. "You will make a new book for me." He took a step towards Alfred which, naturally, made Alfred step back.

Jasper grabbed Alfred by the throat and shoved him against the wall. He tried to push away, but Jasper was far too strong and easily kept Alfred pinned in place.

Alfred watched his vampires over Jasper's shoulder. The count took another deep drink from Angus's wrist, then pushed Angus firmly away. His eyes were locked on the back of Jasper's head. Without looking at either Angus or Herbert, Count Von Krolock snatched the wooden stake, still dripping wet with his own blood, from Herbert and surged to his feet. His teeth were not bared. His eyes were not burning red with anger. He seemed entirely calm, but the moment he got within arm's reach of Jasper, he struck.

With a savage blow, Count Von Krolock drove the table leg into Jasper's back with such incredible force that Alfred saw the jagged point of the wood emerge from Jasper's chest, coming within inches of his own.

Jasper roared and blood spurted out of his mouth, right onto Alfred's face. And then Alfred was released as Jasper fell to the floor. He twitched and writhed a few times, but the count wasn't finished with him. He kicked Jasper in the side and forced him to roll over onto his back as much as the stake in his back would allow. Jasper made a couple of weak, useless movements, but the count dropped to his knees next to Jasper. "Give me more wood!"

From the remains of the little wooden table, Herbert picked out another of the legs, also splintered on one end, and handed it to the count. The count didn't hesitate to shove it into the front of Jasper's chest. He gave the stake a harsh twist, for good measure. He said nothing, but the look of fury on his face really made words quite unnecessary.

"Alfred, darling." Herbert put a hand on Alfred's shoulder and startled him out of staring at the count. It seemed so odd to see the count in such a state when most of Alfred's interactions with the count tended to center on the count treating Alfred like a little child or a favored pet. Alfred could depend on the count to be indulgent and tolerant; a gentle man who would sooner coddle Alfred than snap at him. To see him so enraged was terrifying. "Let's clean you up a bit."

Alfred didn't flinch in the slightest at Herbert's touch. He was very proud of himself and almost stunned at what it meant – he trusted Herbert. He trusted the count and Angus, but they had never once shown any desire to touch him in any ugly ways. Hebert had. Grabby, flirty Herbert had shown plenty of inclination to touch in every way imaginable, but Alfred trusted him not to. That trust hadn't come easily, but Alfred felt perfectly comfortable and safe because he understood, finally, that Herbert didn't want to hurt him. Herbert would never hurt him.

Herbert pulled a large white handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to wipe Alfred's face, mopping up Jasper's blood. He smiled when he'd finished. "Much better." Herbert hesitated and frowned before he said, "Ah… about before. When I…" Herbert's hand drifted towards Alfred's throat, then fell back to his side. "I remember it. I remember putting my hands around your throat and squeezing. I didn't want to! Oh, you must believe me; I really didn't want to do it. I'd have stopped myself if I could have, but whatever he'd done to me made it seem like quite a reasonable thing to do."

With a nod, Alfred tried to give a reassuring smile. "I know it wasn't your fault. It was awful, but that was all Doctor Alibori – not you."

While he did that, he his mind kept drifting back to Herbert and, inevitably, the kiss.

Alfred couldn't look at Herbert without blushing. A kiss… he'd never been so bold in his whole life! He'd just been so happy to think that the threat was finally gone, that Herbert was safe… the kiss had seemed natural. He found that he didn't regret it. He only hoped Herbert would understand that Alfred still didn't want to do more.

Just to change the subject, Alfred looked at Count Von Krolock and the still prisoner. "Is he dead?" Alfred asked the count.

Count Von Krolock laughed. "No. Not at all. The stake, despite current mythology, does not kill a vampire. It never did. All it does it keep a vampire immobile. It will just keep him quiet until I get him where he needs to go. Thank you for helping, pet." The count stood and, with a look of supreme determination, walked to the pile of crosses and garlic. He wasn't happy to be in such near vicinity to all of it, but he was steady when he reached down and picked up one of the small crosses. Smoke billowed around his hand where he held it and Alfred could hear the alarming sound of sizzling flesh. Despite the pain it must have caused him, the count held onto the cross and walked to where Jasper lay. He slapped the cross down on Jasper's chest then used another length of rope to tie it in place. He leaned over and glared at Jasper's half-opened eyes. "No one hurts my children without punishment." He gave Jasper a somewhat evil sort of smile. "I'll deliver you to Her Honor and see what she thinks about your hunger for power."

Jasper didn't respond at all.

The plan was simple, the count informed them. After Angus politely gave his regards to his hospitable friends and thanked them for the shelter, they would go to Rome with their prisoner and deliver him to the proper authorities. They would then go back to Vienna to collect Sarah before heading home.

Angus delighted in hauling Jasper around as if he were nothing more than a sack of dirty laundry and carried him only carefully enough to not dislodge the wooden stakes that held him helpless, but didn't bother with any further kindness. No one really blamed him. They left the house through the hole in the roof, though Alfred didn't understand how the hole would be explained when people came to investigate Doctor Alibori's disappearance, as they surely would.

Herbert easily took care of that issue, by taking one of the lit candles that had fallen on the floor and using it to set fire to the remains of the little table. It was soon a cheery little fire that began to spread to the surrounding floor. "Give it a quarter of an hour," Herbert confidently said. "And this whole house will be ablaze. No one will even think about a little hole in the ceiling."

Alfred rode on Herbert's back and Angus carrying Jasper and the count, apparently completely healed from being staked, led the way. A look over his shoulder showed Alfred that within minutes of them leaving the building, the fire had broken into a terrible blaze. If anyone did wake, their attention would surely be on the fire and not on vampires.

As they flew, Herbert turned his head to look over his shoulder at Alfred. "Dearest, may I ask you something? You told Jasper that you'd read the book and you could copy it. Why didn't you tell us you'd read it?"

"I didn't read." Alfred blushed with shame. "I lied. Sorry, Herbert. I never read that book; I didn't even look at more than a few pages before it was stolen. I just wanted to distract him long enough for you and Angus to help your father. I was so scared the Enforcer was going to kill everyone and it seemed like a harmless lie." He looked ahead to where Angus carried Jasper, perhaps just a bit less gently than he might have. "It was harmless for everyone but Jasper, I suppose."

Herbert burst into giddy laughter. "Oh, my love! You are perfect!"

 **To Be Continued…**


	19. Never On His Own, Again

**Chapter 19: Never On His Own, Again**

In Rome, quite close to Vatican City, though definitely separate from it, there was a house. It was quite normal and blended in with the neighborhood so well that few of the residents ever thought about it, or the strange occupant. On occasion, people would be seen to enter the house at night and stay for several days without being seen before they left at night. The owner of the house, a young woman, was known to be quiet and unsociable. She did not invite neighbors in to dine and did not accept any invitation to the homes of other people.

Count Von Krolock, followed by his sons and Alfred, strode up to the house with purpose in his step. Their journey from England had been thankfully uneventful and they had quickly made the journey to Italy, with their prisoner in tow, in just a few nights. The count did not knock on the door before he tried the front door and, when it didn't immediately open, he wrenched the door handle until they all heard a terrible 'crack' as the lock broke then yanked the door so violently that the chain lock snapped right off. Immediately upon opening the door, he was confronted by a fearsome looking guard, but he snarled and indicated the staked and bound Enforcer Angus dragged behind him.

"I will see Her Honor immediately!"

The guard looked stunned upon seeing Jasper. Then he looked over his shoulder. A door in the hall behind him opened and another man came out. The two strangers spoke in hushed whispers that Alfred couldn't hear, but then the first man stood aside to the let their group pass while the second man led the way through the house.

As they were led up to the second storey of the house, Jasper thumped and bumped his way all the way up as his whole body was dragged up the staircase. Angus took no care with him and Alfred had the distinct impression that Angus would have been perfectly happy killing the Enforcer and only restrained himself because the count had told him to.

At the end of a long hallway on the second storey of the house, the Enforcer leading them went to a large door and opened it. He opened his mouth, as if he would announce them, but before he could, the count stormed passed him. Once inside the room, he stepped aside only enough for Angus, silent and grim, to walk by him and dump Jasper on the floor in the middle of the room. When Angus moved to stand at the count's side Alfred, walking just behind Herbert, was able to see into the room.

There was a desk made out of wood that had been stained so dark it was nearly black. The windows were open, despite the harsh winter wind. There was a brightly colored carpet on the floor and so many lit lamps that the whole room glowed with a warm light. Alfred didn't see any people at all until he peeked around Herbert and saw that, at the far right of the room, a man and a woman sat at a little game table next to the fireplace. They were in the middle of a hand of cards.

Mister Lacroix.

Mister Lacroix seemed entirely unsurprised to see them, but watched them with a raised eye-brow. He was dressed very similar to the way he'd been when Alfred had first seen him in Vienna, all in black with a silver sword pin at the throat of his shirt.

Across the table from Lacroix sat a woman. She was quite plain, really. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun on the back of her head and was a rather unremarkable color somewhere near brown. Her face had nothing notable about it at all. The gown she wore was sensible and gray. But when her eyes flickered over Alfred, as they did with everyone who'd entered the room, he felt quite small and moved to hide behind Herbert. No matter what she looked like, she was not just an ordinary woman.

The woman looked down at Jasper then up at the count. "My guards have much to answer for if they're letting people wander in. What is this?" Her eyes went to the man who'd led them all up to the room, the man who must have been one of her guards. "I would expect visitors to be better announced, Antonio."

The guard, Antonio, bowed his head, silently, "Forgive me, Your Honor, but," he glanced at Jasper's still body. "Given the circumstances, I judged haste to be the best course of action."

"Yes, I suppose you're quite right." She looked back at the count. "I suppose you have an explanation for this rude entrance?"

"Your Enforcer, Jasper, attacked my family without provocation." Count Von Krolock said very softly, as if he were struggling to keep his tone civil. "I would like to know if it was done on your orders, Your Honor."

The woman slowly tilted her head a little to one side, as if she were studying the count, before she answered, "No. I have given no orders regarding you or your young."

"I did not think so." The count removed his hat, which cause Angus and Herbert to do the same. "Forgive me asking, but the safety of my children is my utmost priority."

Her eyes sharpened. "Not prioritized above the Code, I hope."

"Of course not. Now, I think you will also wish to consider that Jasper has been in my custody for several days and nights and I have seen no sign of his partner. Have traditions changed while I've been in my mountains? Do Enforcers work alone?"

"They do not. Enforcers always work in pairs." She looked down at Jasper with heightened interest. "How curious. I can see I will need to have a long chat with my Enforcer." She made a gesture with one hand and Antonio went straight to Her Honor and bowed. She told him, "Take those things out of him."

Antonio obeyed without a word or hesitation. He yanked both stakes out of Jasper's chest and seemed to be preparing to feed him when Her Honor held up a hand. "No. No, I think not. I would like some answers with as little fuss as possible. Take him to the cellar and secure him, then give him enough blood to wake him, but no more."

Antonio did as he was told and closed the door behind him.

"Now," Her Honor said in the perfectly calm tone she hadn't lost since they'd walked into her room. "I think I saw a new face in your crowd, Boian."

Alfred swallowed, hard. He really had been hoping he might get out of the house without being noticed. But, as always seem to happen, Herbert had other ideas on the matter. He grabbed Alfred's arm and tugged him out of hiding. "This is my Alfred! Isn't he lovely? He's going to be my new brother, soon." Herbert gushed out the words and gave Alfred a charming smile, as if the idea of getting Alfred as a brother was the best thing that could have possibly happened to him.

Her Honor carefully set her cards on the table, face-down, and warned Mister Lacroix, "Don't peek!" Then she stood and gracefully walked to Alfred.

He was so afraid that he almost forgot to give her a polite nod. "Good evening, Miss… ah… Miss Honor?"

Mister Lacroix laughed.

Her Honor studied Alfred head to foot and even walked around him once, to see him from all angles. She really wasn't any taller than he was and that was a bit strange. Most people were taller than Alfred was. She even leaned close to his face and sniffed before she walked back to the game table with the off-hand comment, "He will need more blood, Boian. It is wearing off. Now," she picked up her hand of cards. "Tell me exactly what led up to this moment."

The count told her of their travels and what happened in England. Her Honor accepted it as though he were talking about the weather and, when he finished his story, she merely asked, "And this book? You are sure it is destroyed? There is no save to it?"

"It is ash, Your Honor." The count's eyes flickered to Mister Lacroix before he quickly looked back at Her Honor. "I do beg your pardon for this interruption. Not only do I beg you, but also my esteemed sire. However, as there seemed to be an Enforcer acting without his partner and without orders - I was fairly sure you wouldn't authorize him bothering people who hadn't disregarded the Code - I felt that the situation was important enough to risk poor manners."

"And you are correct." Her Honor studied her hand of cards and laid down one on the table. "My Enforcers are the law-keepers of our community and must be above reproach. If our people begin to believe that my Enforcers have turned renegade, there will be no respect, no regard for their authority. I won't have that. I will question Jasper myself and we will see what has happened to his partner and his motivations." She sighed, then set her cards on the table. "I fold. Lucien, you always best me." She gave Mister Lacroix a fond smile, before she stood and left the room, saying, "I will attend the interrogation, now. Do see yourselves out."

Mister Lacroix stood in that slow, graceful way he had. He smiled at Alfred. "If the tale my child has told is to be believed, it seems I should keep you close at hand, young man. I think my family would not have survived their trip without you." Then he gave the other vampires in the room a scathing look. "Thankfully, you had a mortal around to take care of you. I despair of my own family. Well, at least this absurd book is gone so there is no reason for me to EVER hear you prattling on about magic, is there, Boian?"

Alfred spoke up, "But sir, it was real! I saw the terrible things Doctor Alibori did with it and there was a smoke-man who- " Alfred broke off when the count shook his head.

"Never mind, Alfred. He is quite right – there is no reason to talk about that book ever again. It is gone and good-riddance, I say."

"Excellent," Lacroix said. "Now, I would like more details on how you managed to best an Enforcer. In your story, you and Angus chased him away for a time, before you faced down that Doctor Alibori. Jasper was over one hundred years your senior. How did you manage to take him captive?"

The count answered, "As Enforcers are trained to fight in teams, he had no idea how to fight alone when Angus and I faced him. Angus enjoys playing dirty, so while I kept Jasper occupied, Angus would attack from the rear. We kept that up until he fled and we went to find Herbert and Alfred. When Jasper returned, he was enraged at the destruction of the book and began to fight without any sense. Alfred distracted him and, while his back was turned, I staked him."

"Do I understand this correctly?" Mister Lacroix asked. "You used his weakness and lack of judgment against him. You fought in an underhanded manner and took advantage of your enemy's folly in order to win without any consideration of your honor."

"Yes."

Mister Lacroix patted the count on the arm, approvingly. "Good boy."

All was well, after that.

They all left the home of Her Honor together and traveled in peace back to Vienna where they collected Sarah and the clothing Janette had procured for them. Sarah was thrilled to see them all and greeted them with warm hugs all around, but for Alfred who was thankful to get a mere hand-shake. He didn't know Sarah well enough to want a hug. Sarah was far more cheery than when they'd left her and took great pleasure in telling them about all the fun she'd had while under the care of Miss Janette and Mister Nicholas. However, she did eagerly ask Count Von Krolock, "When are we going home?"

Miss Janette was very pleased to show off what she'd purchased for Sarah.

"We have only been gone a couple of weeks," Count Von Krolock said as he stared at a half-a-dozen trunks filled with Sarah's new wardrobe. "How did you have time for all this?"

"It is wondrous," Miss Janette said, smugly, "What a good seamstress can do when provided with enough money."

"Did my Sarah need so much?"

"Of course. These are only the bare essentials, really." Janette indicated a smaller set of three trunks. "And these are for your Alfred. He may need more at a later time, but I'm sure Herbert can easily deal with that."

With all the trunks, they were forced to use the train to return to Transylvania. It took some time and careful instructions to the staff on the train, but they arrived at the nearest train station to the castle at night and were let off with the luggage. From there, it was a matter of hiring three sleighs to ferry everything back to the castle. The count, Angus, and Herbert each steered a sleigh with Sarah riding with the count and Alfred riding with Herbert.

Back at the castle, Koukol was very pleased to see them all and began a report on what very little had happened while they were gone as he unloaded the luggage. Alfred helped, as did the vampires, and soon all the trunks had been placed in the front hall before Sarah's were taken up to her room. Sarah dug into them to unpack and shooed everyone out of the room when it came time to unpack her 'unmentionables'.

Alfred hurried to his room. What a thrill it was to have a room of his own! He would never get over that.

Alfred was delighted to see the toy bunny with pink eyes sitting on his bed, laying against the pillow. Alfred picked it up and ran his fingers over the bunny's head. It brought back to him just what a short time ago it was that he' suffered through that horrible ball and how nice it had been to find the stuffed toy in the bed with him when he'd woken.

"Alfred," Count Von Krolock stood in the doorway. In one hand he easily held one of the heavy trunks Janette had loaded with clothes for Alfred. "May I come in?"

"Yes, sir. Of course." It was very polite of the count to ask, but Alfred couldn't imagine refusing him. It was the count's castle, after all. He was being very generous in allowing Alfred to stay there, so it would have been outright rude to refuse him anything.

The count glanced around the room then set the trunk down in an empty corner. "We need to discuss your conversion."

"My what?"

"Me turning you into a vampire."

"Oh. Yes, that."

"Do you still wish it to be done?"

Alfred was very aware that he was still holding the bunny, but it gave him a strange comfort. "Well… I was thinking about that, sir. I was wondering… maybe… would it be alright to just keep going as we have been for a little while?"

"Do you mean you would like to stay a Blooded for a time? That is no permanent solution, remember. Sooner or later you will have to make the choice between being mortal and becoming one of us."

"Yes. I understand, but I thought this way, I could still walk around in the sun for a while. I'm stronger now than ever so I'm happy." He also hoped he might grow a bit, more. The count was very generous with his food and Alfred hoped he might get just a little bigger. He quickly added, "But we can do it now, if you think it's best. I trust you."

The count chuckled. "No. We can wait a bit. No more than a few years, though. Now, Sarah's things are all taken care of you need to start unpacking." He gestured to the trunk he'd brought up with him. "Try everything on and if it doesn't fit, set it aside and we will get it fixed."

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy. I'll fetch your other trunks and be right back."

Alone, again, Alfred looked back down at his bunny. "I'll name you Poppy," Alfred muttered to the bunny. "Poppy Junior."

"That's so sweet." Herbert strolled into the room. "I think Poppy would have liked to leave her name to the bunny. The bunny was mine when I was very small, you know. I had named him Piggykins, but I think Poppy Junior is even better. We should unpack your new wardrobe, don't you think?"

Alfred looked at the large trunk, warily. It was exciting to have new things – brand new clothes that no one else had ever worn before! – but it was a bit overwhelming. "I still don't think I needed quite so much."

"Father doesn't mind the cost and he likes seeing us all well-dressed. Besides, Janette had a splendid time picking out fabrics and colors and styles. She really is very fashionable. She'll be very happy to see you all dressed up the next time we meet. Well, if you don't want to deal with the clothes right now, we'll go for a walk."

The moment they walked out of the room, Herbert slipped his arm over Alfred's shoulder. It felt strange and exciting.

"I love you," Herbert whispered.

Alfred's happiness cooled. He chewed his bottom lip and looked nervously at Herbert. "But… Herbert… what if I never want to… ah… you know."

"Go to bed together? Have intimate relations? Fornicate?" Herbert drew out the last word as if merely saying it was a pleasure. With every word, Herbert made Alfred blush harder. Herbert squeezed Alfred close to his side and winked. "It's alright. I don't mind if you don't want to."

"Oh," Alfred said, disapprovingly. "That's a lie."

Herbert was completely unashamed. "Perhaps, but I have decided that the utter joy I get from having you in my life is far more important than those 'games' you don't like. We can do other things together. In the spring, there is path from the castle going down to a small lake in the valley and it is the most beautiful thing you have ever see when the full moon shines down on it. Father wants to teach you to read better and, when he does, I have a very exciting poetry book we can read to each other. And you can admire me playing my pianoforte. Even I know there is more to life than carnal delights. But," he smiled wickedly at Alfred. "If you ever do decide you'd like to try a few of those carnal delights with an experienced partner who would be very enthusiastic about making sure you are having fun, I do hope you'll keep in mind that I should be your first choice for a partner. I'm dead certain," he giggled at his pun. "That I could show you how very enjoyable that sort of thing can be when it's done with someone who cares for you. But, if you decide you never want to do that sort of thing, that's alright, too."

"You could really be happy with just that? Walks and reading and music?"

Herbert tipped his head over and bumped it gently against Alfred's. "I think I can be happy anywhere, doing anything, so long as I'm with you, dearest."

Alfred had no reply. He felt his throat close up with emotion. He didn't even know what the polite thing to say in such a situation was.

Angus walked up behind them and gave Herbert a slap on the side of the head and, when Herbert snarled and turned to see who'd hit him, Angus snatched Alfred away. "You stop embarrassing my puppy, Bertie."

"Give him back!" Herbert made a grab for Alfred, but Angus spun him away and put his own body between Herbert and Alfred.

"Nope. Walks and poetry? Ha! This wee lad needs to learn drink and smoke and how to handle a weapon."

Herbert indignantly cried out, "If anyone is going to teach him how to handle his weapon, it's going to be me!"

"Ugg!" Angus shuddered and gave Alfred an apologetic look. "Sorry, laddie, but," he looked back at Herbert. "I wouldn't get involved with that for all the gold in the world!"

Then, once again, Alfred's arm was snagged and he was pulled away from Angus. Alfred looked up at Count Von Krolock's serene face. The man put his arm around Alfred's shoulders, which caused his cape to drape over Alfred. "Enough horse-play, children," the count said, firmly. "Come along."

"Yes, father," Angus said, hurrying to catch up and walk at the count's side.

"Yes, father," Herbert, just as quickly as his brother rushed to walk next to Alfred.

The count looked down at Alfred. "I just put your other trunks in your room. You haven't eaten since yesterday, have you? I want you to head down to the kitchen and get something to eat."

Without thinking, Alfred answered, "Yes, father." Immediately, Alfred froze. His feet just stopped moving and he very slowly, cautiously turned to look up at the count.

Count Von Krolock smiled down at Alfred, fond and approving. He gave Alfred a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but said nothing.

A surge of joy spread through Alfred. The count didn't mind. He didn't mind a bit! Alfred had a home, food, a bunny, and family – there was nothing at all in the whole, wide world that could have possibly made him happier. He knew he'd never be on his own, again.

 **The End**


End file.
